Gamble Everything for Love
by EruditeWitch
Summary: The small thread holding Ron Weasley together finally breaks. What else will be broken in the process? Rating for later. Tom Bombadil makes this story possible.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

**If You're Free**

_Gamble everything for love, gamble everything_

Put it in a place you keep what you need

You can gamble everything for love if you're free

You gotta gamble everything for love

-Ben Lee

Hermione let out a contented sigh as Ron's hand found the small of her back and guided her through the crowded streets of Diagon Alley. She stole a glance in his direction and let her lips stretch into a smile at the look of his shaggy hair falling into his eyes. When they arrived at the door of the Leaky Cauldron, he turned to face her and she bravely reached up to brush the hair from his eyes.

"It's been weeks since the end of the war, Ron. When are you going to cut your hair?" Hermione said, smiling at how close his body had gotten to hers.

"It's symbolic!" he exclaimed.

"Symbolic of what?" she asked, amused.

"We were on our mission for so long, no showers, barely any food, and no haircuts. It was awful…well you know…and cutting my hair kind of makes it permanent, says that it's really done and that everyone's really gone," Ron said, shifting about and looking at some invisible spot above her head rather than into her eyes.

"Oh," was all Hermione could answer in the moment. They all still had wounds, and Ron was no exception. She ran her thumb down his cheek and signaled that they should go inside. Ron stopped her, wrapping his large hands around her shoulders.

"Tell you what, you can cut my hair when we get home tonight. It is getting annoying," he finished while flipping his hair back melodramatically.

Hermione followed Ron into the pub in a daze, questions invading her mind: _Did he plan on spending the night with her? Where was 'home'? _She had been staying with her parents, enjoying her renewed time with them. Harry had finally left the Burrow, much to Mrs. Weasley's chagrin, and was working on opening up Grimmauld Place. Ron split his time between the Burrow and George's flat, helping him at the shop.

After sharing a small space for so long, they were suddenly sleeping so far from each other. The feeling was still foreign to her. Lonely.

She and Ron hadn't kissed again since the day of the battle, but they were close, they saw each other every day, and were often found standing very close together or holding hands. It was slow going, but having all the time in the world was bliss to Hermione.

"Hermione? Hello!" Hermione snapped out of her daze of questions about what he meant by 'all night' and 'home' as Ron waved his hand in front of her face, a smirk pulling at the edge of his mouth.

"I see Dean already has a booth. Do you mind getting me a firewhisky while I say hello?" Ron asked, sliding her a galleon. "Get whatever you want too," he said, gently kissing her cheek before bounding off toward Dean and Seamus.

Normally, she would protest about him spending his money on her when she had plenty of her own, but he was so proud of having his own income that she couldn't reject his offer. Lunch, dessert, quills, and even books were just a few things he showered on her. Her reluctance to allow him to spend his galleons on her was too placated by his proud smile and joyful affection to protest.

Hermione tried to get the barmaid's attention, but resigned herself to waiting as the hassled looking woman took order after order from the crowded bar.

"Buy you a drink, love?" An unfamiliar voice rang out behind her. She turned to see a ruddy-faced man, probably in his thirties, struggling to maintain his balance has he grinned menacingly at her and licked his lips.

"That's very kind, but I'm here with someone," she replied, quickly turning away from him as the barmaid finally acknowledge her. "Yes. I'll have two firewhiskies," Hermione smiled, leaving Ron's galleon on the counter. The barmaid handed Hermione the drinks and change, and she was counting out a small tip when the unpleasant man she had just turned down crashed into her, mumbling, "bitch" before ordering his drinks.

Everything after that seemed to happen in slow motion. The drinks Hermione was holding spilled all over her lovely new blouse, and she shrieked and jumped back away from the rude man. Then, there was a roar and a loud crash. Hermione looked up to see Ron's fist flying at the man who had just bumped into her.

Shouting erupted around Hermione as patrons of the bar circled to watch what appeared to be a drunken brawl. Hermione struggled to get through, to call for Ron, to do anything, but the throng of onlookers held her tightly in place. She could hear the sicken thud of flesh hitting flesh over the chaos, and her stomach turned in fear.

Thankfully, Dean and Seamus were fighting their way through, and Hermione grabbed the back of Dean's robes to get through the crowd.

Hermione's breath got caught and her heart stopped in fear as the sight slowly unfolded before her. Ron was leaning over the older man, clutching his robes. The man's face was covered in blood as Ron relentlessly pummeled him. Ron's entire body was shaking, his face clouded over in rage. Hermione closed her eyes as he raised his fist again, but to her immense relief, Dean and Seamus grabbed his arms and pulled a struggling Ron back.

Ron froze and turned around; he met Hermione's eyes, now dripping with unbidden tears. His rage melted, and his face screwed up in pain as his deep blue eyes penetrated hers. She reached a tentative hand toward him, but he vanished before her anxious brown eyes.

Hermione was drawn back to the crowd now, all of whom seemed to be shouting with anger that the offender had escaped. The ruddy-faced man remained still on the floor. Seamus was shouting back angrily at the group of drunken onlookers while Dean's hands fluttered nervously over the injured man. Hermione pushed back the image of Ron's anguished face and sat down next to his now unconscious victim. She struggled to concentrate on the healing spells she knew over the volume of the angry mob, but her hands were shaking too quickly. A loud bang brought everyone's attention back to the bar as the barmaid climbed atop a stool to speak. When she cast _'sonorus'_ , She turned and Hermione gasped again. There was Hannah Abbot, her Hufflepuff classmate, donning an apron and addressing the crowd.

"This is a private matter, and I will not have you lot behaving like monkeys in my Gran's bar! Out!" she exclaimed, her voice echoing loudly around the pub. There was a groan of protest. Hannah flicked her wand and every door in the building slammed open. "Now!"

Hermione watched as the bar quickly emptied, shrinking away from the dirty looks given her by some of the wizards, and jumping at Seamus' instant threats to all of those who dared look at his friends sideways. With the new peace, Hermione was able to quickly heal all of the man's wounds. His pulse and breath were normal, but he remained unconscious.

"Thank you, Hannah," she said, turning her watery eyes up to the barmaid.

"Don't worry about it, Hermione. Just take care of Ron," she smiled kindly, rubbing Hermione's shoulders. Hermione's small hope fell as she realized she did not know where he had gone. He wouldn't go to the Burrow, at least not in his present state. Dean sat on the dirty floor next to her, looking to her for the next step.

"Why hasn't Harry shown up yet?" she asked, anxiety seeping through her skin.

"He flooed me to say that he and Ginny had decided to stay at Grimmauld for the evening. Something about alone time," Dean explained, blushing.

"Wish you would get the same ideas," Seamus mumbled, getting up to pick up the knocked over bar stools.

Hermione shook her head quickly, too concerned to wonder at Seamus' comment.

"Dean? Can you and Seamus make sure this man is okay, and that everything is…um…wrapped up…legally?" Hermione asked, struck by the sudden inspiration to go seek help from Harry.

Dean nodded as Hermione Apparated away before he or Seamus could ask a single question.

* * *

The joy and desire rising in Ginny Weasley's chest gave her a warm contentment as heat pooled between her legs. Harry's smooth lips were gliding along her jaw and down her neck; one hand gripping her face firmly while the other was intertwined in her long hair. As the hand that had been cupping her face slid around her, then up the back of her shirt, she couldn't suppress a throaty moan. The electricity of his touch surged powerfully through her.

This display of affection was a welcome change in Harry's behavior from the past few weeks. She had stood awkwardly by his side as Harry tied up loose ends after the war, their only physical contact coming when he held and comforted her in her grief. He spoke at Remus and Tonks' memorial; he spoke at Colin Creevy's as well. Harry accepted Order of Merlin awards posthumously given to Snape, Remus, Tonks, Colin, and even the goblin Griphook. He felt it was his duty to speak for all of them.

Ginny had kept herself busy by helping with repairs to Hogwarts, working at the shop while George grieved, and fighting off the press from gaining access to Harry.

Needless to say, romance had been shoved to the back burner…and the burner was off…and they were nowhere near the kitchen.

So, Ginny was overwhelmed to say the least when Harry led her into his master suite at Grimmauld Place, which she found to be transformed with red and gold drapes hanging from the walls, beautiful artwork invading her eyes. Her senses tingled at the sight of a large golden bed with red pillows, a roaring fire, and candles that flickered on every surface. She began to kiss him immediately, too anxious for his touch, too full of love at the sight of his wide green eyes. They tumbled to the golden bed in an instant, reveling in hands and lips, pruned to love and lust by a year of fear and doubt.

Now, she sighed heavily as he moved from her jaw to her neck again, whispering declarations of unending love for her. Tonight they were cut off form the world and drowning in each other. Tonight would be the beginning of new memories…finally.

A loud crash in the sitting room deflated the anticipatory mood of their romantic evening immediately. Ginny and Harry grabbed their wands and moved slowly down the hall. Directly underneath them, another loud crash rang out. Harry put a hand on her shoulder to stop Ginny from taking the stairs to the sitting room.

Harry wordlessly cast a spell making a clear window appear in the floor to look at the room below. They gasped at what they saw.

Ron was raging in the room below, throwing furniture and any other heavy object he could get his hands on. Form her view above him, Ginny could see blood on his hands and arms, and as he let out an anguished groan, she ran to him, too concerned to worry for her safety. Besides, her brother would never hurt her, no matter how upset he was.

She got to the first floor just as he hurled a crystal vase at the wall.

"Arresto Momentum" she shrieked, causing Ron to turn around immediately. The look on his face went from rage, to panic, and on to deflated as Harry joined Ginny in the sitting room doorway.

"Harry! I swear I'll repair this. I didn't mean to ruin your things," Ron said quickly, looking sadly into his eyes.

"That's okay mate. I'll take care of it," Harry said carefully. "What happened?"

"I just can't take it! I can't take the screaming! I hear it all the time," Ron exclaimed, flopping onto the couch and putting his head in his hands. Ginny immediately knew what he meant and rushed to his side, pulling Ron into her arms.

"It's okay, Ron. We're all okay," She soothed. Harry caught her eye over the top of Ron's head and gave her a bewildered look.

"I couldn't help her. I couldn't get here," Ron whispered miserably into her shoulder, his voice choking painfully in his throat like the words were razors.

"Let's go upstairs to your old room and get you washed up," she said to Ron. He stood up, already a little calmer, and walked slowly up the stairs.

"What's going on?" Harry whispered frantically.

"Just wait here. I think Hermione might show up shortly," Ginny answered, rushing up the stairs to aid her ailing and broken brother. She followed him into the room, closed the door, and warmed the pitcher of water sitting on the end table.

Ron stood there silently, a shell of himself, as Ginny summoned a cloth from the adjoining bathroom. She sat him on the bed, unsurprised that he didn't struggle against her small hands. In the heavy silence, Ginny breathed slowly, watching the small cuts on his face and hands, following the streaks of latent tears through the blood under his eyes.

"Every time I close my eyes, I can see those damn stone walls. I can see my fists pounding on them…I can hear her…she's screaming," he said, anger coursing between his clenched teeth as Ginny ended her ministrations. Pain seemed to dictate his every move. He stood and began pacing maddeningly throughout the room.

A gear seemed to click in Ginny's head. She remembered the night Harry tearfully recounted Hermione's ordeal, and how she had held him in his anguish as Harry clung to her for support. Ginny's heart clenched at the memory, and she felt her lips quiver involuntarily. Even though she wasn't there that night, every time the memory came to her, she longed to hold her dear friend tight and tell her everything was fine. Harry had Ginny there for him to confide his fears and hurt in, but Ron couldn't do that with Hermione. Ginny knew the situation was too much to relive. She moved to her brother and put her delicate fingers gently on his broad, bony shoulders.

"A bloke … shoved her … knocked our drinks on her…" Ron stammered.

"…And you just got scared and snapped?" Ginny replied.

Ron nodded slowly.

"Ron, I'll tell you the same thing I told Harry: You did all you could. You guys made it out. All three of you were so brave, and you made it out. Hermione doesn't hold it against you. She's not that girl," Ginny said, gripping him firmly and forcing him to look into her eyes by the sheer force of her words.

"I know she doesn't, but I do. She should have never gone through that. I couldn't help her. I just stayed cooped up and had to listen to her dying!" Ron was shouting now, gripping his hair tightly. After a choked sob, he stared at Ginny in shock and immediately made his face stone.

"Oh no you fucking don't, Ronald Weasley! Don't you hide back in that shell? It's what got you in this mess in the first place," Ginny said firmly, pointing her finger at his chest. Her face softened at his shocked expression. "You never have to hide the darkness from me. I will always be a shoulder for you. I love you," she said, wrapping her arms around his thin waist.

"Thanks, Gin," he groaned, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. His chest rose and fell in deep breaths as he took a moment to compose himself. He kissed the top of her head, pulled away, and flopped down on the bed. Ginny got up to go back to Harry, but paused at the door. She knew he needed time to sort his own head out, now that it wasn't so clouded.

"You know, I bet Hermione would be a great shoulder too, and may need one herself," she said quietly, making her way out the room and down the stairs as another pained sob echoed from Ron.

* * *

"Harry, please! What's going on!"? Hermione desperately pleaded, standing in the middle of Grimmauld Place's destroyed sitting room.

Harry was just as confused as she was, but at the panicked look on her face, he decided to try to calm her with the truth.

"I'm honestly not sure, Hermione," he started, standing up so he could look her in the eye. "Ron came here, busted some things up, and then Ginny dragged him upstairs. He looked hysterical. What happened?"

"One minute, I was getting drinks, and the next minute he's flogging some unruly and rude gentleman's face into a pulp," Hermione exclaimed, running her hands through her hair.

"I don't get it. He's been fine. He was a bit off about Fred, but that's to be expected," Harry said, beginning to flick his wand around the room, repairing Ron's path of destruction.

"He just snapped," Hermione said meekly, echoing his actions on the other side of the room.

"_Leave it to her to want to work in her emotional distress,"_ Harry thought silently.

As Hermione was recounting the moments leading up to the confrontation, a moment of realization dawned on Harry. Hermione had screamed, and Ron snapped. It suddenly made sense. In the next moment, Harry realized that Hermione didn't know what Ron was still going through. Hell, Harry only knew what he could glean from the cries in Ron's sleep. This wasn't his business to discuss, and in truth, he wouldn't even know where to begin.

Harry cast a silent 'Reparo' on a broken chair. "Yeah, that is a bit troubling. I hope he's okay."

"Harry. There's something you're not…"

"C'mon Harry, let's go," Ginny interrupted, entering the room and pulling Harry away. "Ron's upstairs, Hermione."

"Is Ron alright?"? Harry asked, but Ginny just Apparated away, leaving Hermione puzzled in the middle of a freshly repaired room.

* * *

Ron sat on the bed contemplating his next move. First, he had to find Hermione and apologize, but his blood ran cold at the thought of having to make Hermione think about what had happened to her at Malfoy Manor. He shuddered at the thought of reminding her of how he had let her down. Throughout their time in the forest and beyond, after that night, Ron wasn't too focused on her torture. He was focused on getting Harry to the end, and bringing Hermione there alive…no matter what. The mission filled his head with planning and strategy, and gave him an amount of adrenaline he was scarcely used to. Now, however, his mind was free to wonder…to dwell…on the things that he could have prevented.

In the past few weeks, Ron had been happier than he thought he should be, gifted with the chance to hold Hermione's hand and kiss her cheek. However, he felt that he wasn't worth it, and that thought tortured him. He felt guilty to be so happy in grief, and even guiltier to know she had counted on him and he had let her down…over and over again. Ron was hanging by a thread, and he had come crashing down tonight.

He sat up form his prone position and clenched his bruised fists. He knew he could not run and hide from all of this. He wanted to make it up to her somehow … he _had_ to.

As if his mind had called to her, he heard Hermione on the stairs. "Ron? Is everything alright?"

"Yeah-

Suddenly, everything in the house went black, each candle extinguished, and each light burnt out. Before he could utter 'lumos', Hermione screamed.

He leapt from his bed and ran into the hall. Ron felt something hard smash into his shoulder and push him back, slamming him against he wall. A sharp pain rippled through is head as his feet fell out from under him.

"Ron!" Hermione screamed out in the darkness just before he saw a light come from her wand and illuminate her face. She had a large cut above her eyes and blood was dripping like tears down her cheeks. She reached out a hand and helped him up.

"Are you hurt?" she asked.

"Reducto!" Ron shouted at an offending shadow, and something fell hard against the ancient wooden floor. He felt Hermione place her hands on his face, and she looked into his eyes, her big eyes shining in the light of her wand.

"Oh 'Mione! I'm sorry!" He exclaimed, pulling her to his chest. Just then, there were two loud 'pops'.

"Yaxley! You never came back! Where's Potter?" One man yelled, then he met Ron's eyes.

"Levicorpus!" Hermione yelled, and the man was hoisted into the air and dropped on his head. Ron pulled them both down to dodge the retaliatory spell from the other Death Eater.

"Expelliarmus!" yelled a woman from the dark end of the hall. Ron's wand flew past his fingertips. He pushed Hermione behind his back and pressed them against the wall. Three masked figures surrounded them. Ron had no hope left, but he kept pressed against Hermione, hoping he could at least be a shield.

"Incarcerous!" shouted the woman, but as the ropes came form her wand, a shield interfered.

Ron was too shocked to act immediately, but one second of deliberation led him to pull Hermione quickly toward their wands.

Something sliced through the muscles on Ron's calf and he fell, screaming, to the floor, Hermione tripping over him.

Suddenly, her warm weight was torn from atop Ron's body. He turned to reach for her, only to receive another blow to the head.

Everything faded into darkness.


	2. Are you feeling Lost?

_Baby, are you cold, are ya cold baby_

_Baby, are you cold, are ya cold baby?_

_I could wrap you up, wrap you up in my love,_

_If you wanna, you can gamble everything for love._

Hermione's entire body was in pain, and it seemed an effort just to open her eyes. When she finally let light in, she was shocked at how dim everything was. She moved her hands tentatively around, acutely aware that she was in a very unfamiliar place. She was lying on a cold, stone floor, and feeling dirt and mud beneath her. Squinting in the half-light, she saw bars in front of her. Desolation and fear mingled behind her tired eyes.

Terror ripped through her as she recalled the struggle in Grimmauld Place before everything faded away and she woke up in this place. Death Eaters had attacked her and Ron, and someone had ripped her from him just as they were reaching for their wands. She looked around frantically, her head jerking in every direction, but Ron was nowhere in sight.

Hermione froze in her tiny cell. She had two choices; give up and mourn for Ron, or fight back and get out. The decision was obvious, but easier to think of than to accomplish. Every piece of her wanted to curl up and let fate have its way. But a little piece, somewhere deep inside of her, kept holding on. It was both torturous and exquisite to keep fast to that tiny shred.

She reached out to feel the cold metal bars in her hands, gripped the iron bars and started shaking them as hard as she could, but when she tried to let out a scream, no sound came out. An evil laugh seemed to flow out of the darkness of the narrow hall.

"Oh yes, my dear little Mudblood! I've silenced you. I don't think I could have stomached hearing your screeching when you woke up," said a tall, dark man who emerged from the darkness to her left. As he leered at her, his crooked, broken teeth gave way to the stench of his breath. She tried to straighten her spine and sit up, but her instincts drove her back from the offensive man on the other side of the bars.

Hermione recognized him immediately as Runcorn, the Death Eater Harry transfigured into when they had infiltrated the Ministry. His broad shoulders and large hands loomed forebodingly as he towered directly in front of her. He was even more massive and intimidating when there wasn't Harry's beautiful soul being housed in his body. Her blood ran even colder through her veins and she needed to swallow hard to try and suppress her fear.

"I wanted to get my own personal revenge on Potter for making me look like a fool. To be masqueraded by that Half-blooded wretch makes my skin crawl. It's a shame I've had to settle for you…for now. But maybe this will teach him a lesson about associating with impure creatures," he sneered, reaching through the bars and grabbing Hermione's face so tightly she felt her jaw would break. A tongue darted out from between his lips, pink pressing against his dark mustache. "I bet you taste like mud too."

"Keep her unharmed. She's our bait…" said a mysteriously gruff voice from the far end of the darkened hall. Hermione's heart fell into her stomach as she pictured Harry meeting the same fate as she and Ron. She had faith he wouldn't fall for such a simple trap, but worried that Harry was prone to rash decisions in the heat of anger and grief. He might come regardless of whether he knew it was a trap or not. After all, that is precisely what he had done for Sirius.

"There were five of us, yet you and your Blood Traitor of a boyfriend managed to get rid of Yaxley and Amycus! You'll pay for that as soon as we're done using you," Runcorn finished, emphasizing the last words in a way that chilled Hermione even more. He exited, but Hermione didn't hear the second set of footsteps belonging to the mysterious second voice.

Though her voice couldn't enlist a single vibration, he mind still screamed desperately for Ron. _Where was he? Had they already killed him?_

Hermione pulled her legs up to her chest in the chill air and rocked in an effort to keep warm. She was determined not to sleep if she could help it. Struggling to find a clear place in her head, she started to form a plan. It was difficult to maintain focus, however, as her head throbbed with effort in the cold, dim light of the cell, and slowly she drifted into a fitful sleep.

_Hermione woke in the moonlight, comfortably nestled in her bed. A white canopy blew over her head, drawing her attention to the linen curtains billowing out from her large bedroom window. A cool breeze wafted under her nose, and she could smell that her mother had left the laundry on the line overnight. This quiet country home always had the greatest cavalcade of smells to soothe Hermione's restless mind. She was ten years old, and summer vacation was coming to a close. The chill in the air of early September crept into her bedroom and made her shiver._

_Hermione threw her legs over her bed as her feet slipped into her fuzzy slippers -- white bunnies, of course. She made her way across her room, feet dragging sleepily, to close the window tight. She stopped at her desk and arranged her schoolbooks yet again, this time from smallest to largest. She turned her pencils so that they were all facing the right direction, and turned her new folders so they were parallel to her pencils. She felt the familiar swirl of excitement at the thought of school the next day._

_Hermione's tiny hands curved around a long pink ribbon which she held reverently up to the light. She sincerely hoped that if she kept her hair tied up, neat and pretty, maybe some of the girls would want to play with her at school. The prospect of new friends made her feel warm and hopeful. This year she would turn over a new leaf, and forget the horrible things said to her at her former school. She looked down to find a faint glow emanating from her body and jumped with a small yelp. The next moment, she laughed at herself, clearly made a fool by the moon, and moved at last to close her window._

_A sudden crash outside made Hermione scream. As the crashing grew louder and more ominous,she became more terrified. The increasing volume of her screams was matched by glass breaking in her room. She looked around to see her windows broken and glass flying about her head. Next, all of her books and toys went flying, shards of paper clouding her panicked vision. Hermione crouched on the floor, covering her ears, trying to wake herself, for surely she was dreaming._

_A warm hand covered Hermione's back, and she opened her eyes to see her mother staring at her, concerned and slightly frightened. Hermione raised her head to take in her damaged room and began sobbing immediately at the ruin of her precious books, her pink ribbon in threads of frayed silk from the glass. Her mother held her tightly and soothed her until Hermione's tears subsided. Her father gently patted her head after sweeping up as much of the mess as he could. He explained carefully, his big brown eyes meeting hers, that some raccoons had found themselves caught in the bins outside. Hermione began to calm. The warmth and comfort quickly returned, and Hermione was more curious than scared at her behavior._

_As Hermione nestled back into bed, she began to wonder if the girls at school were right. Perhaps she was a freak._

Icy water rushed over Hermione and she struggled to breathe, gasping for air as her body seized from the cold, nausea instantly coming over her in waves. She heaved, but was victim only to a dry retching, having had nothing in her system since leaving the pub. She opened her eyes to find herself in the same cell that she had slept in for what felt like at least a day. The warmth of her childhood room faded away as quickly as it had come, and her eyes focused now on Runcorn staring hatefully through the bars holding a bucket. Hermione was not surprised to find that he was amused by her pain,.

She tried to yell out, forgetting she had been silenced, and the struggle to speak burned her throat. She reached for her neck just as Runcorn grabbed her by the hair and pulled her mercilessly from the cell, before dragging her to a door at the end of the hallway. She was then tossed unceremoniously, falling to a heap on the hard cement floor. The dropping of icy liquid from her hair was all she heard for a few moments there in the dark. Then, a voice rang out and torches lit in the circular room.

"I will only take a moment of your time, Ms. Granger. We just need a little bait to lure Potter to me. Too bad he doesn't know that you and I will be in different places," Rudolphus Lestrange laughed warmly, an eerie sound. Hermione wanted to yell to him that Harry was much too clever, but she was still woefully and painfully silent.

"Now, now, now; no need to shout. My lovely wife made you do enough of that. Should I remind you for posterity's sake

Hermione stiffened, waiting for the unparalleled pain of the Cruciatus Curse, but it never came. Instead, a heavy blow smashed across her jaw, causing a very different type of pain to flash sharply in her head. When her vision cleared, Runcorn was holding a chunk of her hair. Hermione felt panic surge through her body the moment she realized that her blood was dripping freely from the skin that clung morbidly to her roots.

"This mop should be enough to bring Potter running. In fact, I hope he brings his Ministry friends, as well. We'll be more ready for them. They could ever imagine everything we have waiting for them," Runcorn said with a sneer.

Rudophus Lestrange seemed equally excited as he leaned closer to Hermione and bared his revoltingly yellow teeth.

"I hope all the Weasleys follow him, because vengeance would be so much sweeter than simply killing Potter. His death would be symbolic of the fact that blood purity still matters! It will tell the world that there are still powerful fighters out here waiting to set things right."

Hermione swallowed deeply, amazed at the depth of hatred that filled the hearts of Voldemort's former followers. It was deeply disturbing … and equally frightening.

Lestrange looked closely at Hermione, obviously sensing her fear, and resumed his diatribe. "But killing the Weasleys … that is personal! I can almost taste their traitorous blood. Killing an old line family like the Weasleys will bring fear back to the masses. People will have to realize that Mudbloods are still a bane to be disposed of." His gloved hands curved over the arm of the high backed chair in which he sat.

"Of course, the first thing I'll do is to kill your little boyfriend right before your eyes. I'll also let his mother watch as I kill someone SHE loves! She'll be sorry about what she did to Bella. I'll make Molly's son beg as soon as I get my hands on him!"

Somewhere amidst the fog in her head and the pain in her throat came a glimmer of hope that Hermione managed to hide from her captor. She knew she had to maintain her composure. It was her only weapon against the onslaught of this new danger. She couldn't permit him to see inside her soul, for in that singular moment in which he faced her down, she had learned a major revelation.

Ron was alive!

The whole world became meaningful once again, and Hermione was determined to fight on until she heard his voice again.

Lestrange leaned back over Hermione, but this time she didn't shrink away. Instead, she rose to meet him as an equal. That seemed to enrage him more, so he pushed her forcibly back to the ground.

"Remember how he cried for you? Bella told me how he screamed your name. Well, let's see if I can break him," Lestrange said, standing over her and reaching down, grabbing hard to the back of her neck and pulling her level with him. His dark eyes were hollow and didn't run any deeper than the faded yellow tissue that surrounded his gray/brown irises. There was nothing inside – no heart -- no soul.

"Get this filthy Mudlbood out of here before I vomit," he commanded.

Springing into action, Runcorn once again seized Hermione by the hair and dragged her back down the hallway before tossing her roughly through the entrance to her cell. Her head swayed and nausea overwhelmed her once again. All she wanted to do was to sleep, but Runcorn pulled her back up.

"And when Rudy is finished, I can play too," he whispered, running a sharp fingernail up her shirt, across her abdomen, and not stopping until he found the spot at which her bra met her ribs. Hermione gasped when he pressed his body against her backside. "Oh I know you're excited," he laughed. Hermione struggled, but he held tightly to her. She kicked backwards, hitting him squarely in the groin.

When Runcorn fell, Hermione ran. Every chance she had, albeit small, she had to take. Ron was alive, and she needed to be somewhere more hopeful, someplace she could see his face, somewhere they could fight side by side. But she was not fast enough. Runcorn gathered himself from the floor, casting a spell that petrified her on the spot. Hermione fell helplessly to the floor, landing hard enough to instantly bleed.

"Oh you'll pay," he whispered, carrying her effortlessly to her cell. Yet Hermione stubbornly held on to that small glimmer of hope, held it close to her, and tried not to fear whatever came next.

Runcorn tethered her hands above her head where she sat, and chained her feet to the floor before ending his spell. "Now you're ready for me, whenever I feel like it."

As soon as he backed out of the door, Hermione began shaking with fear, trying to wrap the thoughts of Ron's warm eyes around her and bring her some semblance of comfort. He was still alive…it was all she had, but it was all that mattered in the dark.

Hermione was startled out of her own thoughts by how cold it had become, even when considering the darkness and her wet state of being. It was early summer, yet she could see her breath. She saw some light leaking in from the corner of her tiny cage, and she bent her head closely to it, causing instant and consuming dizziness. Through the crack in the ancient stone, she saw white.

"Where does it snow in June?" she wondered. The thought of snow only made her chills more pronounced.

Hermione closed her eyes and tried to retreat to the warm memories of her childhood bedroom. She knew she had to keep her wits about her if she had any hope of getting out of this situation alive, so she put everything into that endeavor. The only other choice was to surrender to her current situation – to simply fade away into the Dark. Rejecting this unacceptable alternative, she tried to take her mind back to the lovely white bed, willing her dream to invade her senses. She recalled how, as a child, she had performed nonverbal, wandless magic during times of great emotional stress that night. Now that she was viewing things through the clarity of her dream she was absolutely sure that her magic had risen within her out of some protective instinct. Empowered by this knowledge, Hermione managed to hold the fog that threatened to overwhelm her at bay.

Buoyed by this epiphany, Hermione immediately concentrated on a simple 'Lumos', but nothing happened. She redoubled her efforts, picturing her bedroom and the fear that had overwhelmed her at such a young age. She focused upon the breaking glass, but nothing moved. Hermione was disconcerted, but knew her magical theory: Once magic has been harnessed, wizards and witches who have come of age don't often have a lot of pent up magic that could cause that kind of reaction.

Hermione needed to physically feel the real emotion coursing through her, to allow her protective magical instincts to feed upon the overwhelming fear, yet somehow she knew this wouldn't be enough. Desperate to succeed, Hermione investigated everything she knew about defensive spells, and things suddenly clarified. In order to cast a powerful Patronus, Professor Lupin had taught Harry to concentrate on his most cherished memories – the happiest times of his life – the times he had felt most loved. In turn, she pictured her mother that night, holding her as she cried from fear. Memories of the smell of her mother's hair, the soft feel of her flannel pajamas, and the musical sound of her voice made Hermione feel as near to contentment as she possibly could in her prison. The warmth seemed to rush out of her body, and wrap securely around her. Once again she concentrated on the Lumos spell with all of her ability. At last, when she opened her eyes, a faint, moonlight-like glow came off of her.

As quickly as the little glow came, it disappeared, and Hermione was once more bathed in darkness. She began to peruse her deepest memories, to try to find a thought that could invoke a greater sense of happiness within her. The vision came to her clearly. There they were; deep blue eyes, smiling up at her – hands reaching up to touch her face, holding her close. She knew two things that mattered most to her; Ron was alive, and he loved her. She could feel his hands on her, feel his lips on her cheek from earlier that day, and she burned with love.

When she dared open her eyes once again, the light extended farther into her cell. Hermione tightened her jaw and hardened her bruise-addled body. She concentrated on any movement, any sound she could make, all the while keeping thoughts of Ron's warmth close to her to ward off the earth-shattering chill of her reality.

* * *

As soon as they landed at The Burrow, Harry resumed his inquiry, however, his hands had also found their way back to Ginny's waist.

"So Ron's really okay?"

"He will be," Ginny said before turning to look at him and intertwining their fingers behind her back. They stood in the field behind her house and he gazed deeply into her eyes. Though vague, her response was enough of an answer for him at the moment. All he wanted was to hold her, to finally feel her close.

Harry kissed Ginny passionately, pressing his body tight against hers. He threaded his hands anxiously in her hair as she pressed her tongue to his lips. The sensation of her warm, wet tongue sent chills through his body, causing him to shake with desire. When Ginny pulled away momentarily, Harry surprised himself by whimpering a little from the loss.

"I'm glad it's so easy to pick up where we have left off, be it an hour or a year," Ginny murmured softly.

Harry answered with a deep moan as her hands roamed up and down his back. When she responsed with a small shiver, he continued to run his fingers along the goosebumps on her arm.

"Shhh…" she grinned, taking him by the hand and leading him toward the door.

"Looking to get a bit warmer, Miss Weasley," Harry whispered, waggling his eyebrows. Ginny rolled her eyes at him and continued walking. "I'm quite good at that," Harry chuckled. He reveled in the light mood that had gripped them today. It felt positively freeing.

They slowly moved up the stairs and into Ginny's second floor bedroom. Harry was hard from the mere anticipation of touching her smooth, soft skin. He licked his lips as he looked at her, allowing his imagination to move on to what it would be like to taste her. He slowly slid off her cardigan, running his hands down the bare skin of her shoulders in the process. Spring still hung in the air, making the frustrating layers necessary as night fell, but Harry vowed to make quick work of the offending folds of fabric. Ginny responded to Harry by yanking his shirt over his head and pressing hungry kisses across his chest.

"Ginny…" he whispered, moving his nose into her long hair and breathing in the flowery scent. His hands wound around her shoulders and he pressed his hips against her.

"Harry," she answered back. Her soft brown eyes met his gaze with a look that spoke volumes.

"_Finally," _he thought. "_It's finally okay to.be with her!"_

He pulled her against him with force, bending his face to hers and hungrily engaging in a searing kiss.

Just then, a feral yell could be heard from the front of the house.

Without sparing a devastated look, Harry and Ginny ran, wands drawn, toward the commotion.

* * *

Ron woke to a smattering of cold, clammy fingers on the side of his face. His head was spinning and he had no idea where he was, though his back felt uncomfortably cold and damp. He tried to flex his hands, but was immobile. He lay still, struggling against his own body, as the same hands lightly slapped his cheeks. Suddenly, his mind filled with images of a dark and hurried struggle.

"Hermione," he whispered frantically, attempting to sit up. His head spun, his body screamed, and the same bony fingers pressed firmly against his shoulders.

"Oh no you don't, you blood tr--I mean, Mr. Weasley. You may be concussed," came a frog-like voice. The eerily boney fingers touched areas of his neck and head, checking for injuries. Ron opened his eyes to see an even larger pair of eyes staring back at him. "Just let me get my master," Kreacher finished. Ron grabbed his arm to keep him there, panic and anger clouding his judgment.

"Where's Hermione?" Ron demanded, shaking the elf's shoulders. Kreacher blinked slowly, obviously unbothered by Ron's rage.

"When I got to the uppermost hall, they pulled her away and Disapparated. I decided the most practical course of action would be to get you out of the house, as you were obviously injured," Kreacher said, bringing his nose high into the air.

"They took her? She's gone, and you fucking brought me here? I swear I'll kill you…"

There was a loud _crack_, and Kreacher was gone. Ron was left alone, enraged, and confused in the middle of the field outside of the Burrow. He let out a miserable yell, clawing at the air where Kreacher had been standing, feeling powerless to do anything.

There was a slamming of doors and a sudden rustling of feet in the grass. He knew he had woken everyone, but welcomed the questions. He felt lost, and needed some steady eyes to point him in the right direction. Even his mind seemed torn into two pieces; the one of panic and the one of determination. He stood in the field and waited for his family to come to him.

The first thing he needed to do was tell his father everything he knew thus far. The Ministry needed to investigate the house, and Ron had faith that his father could put that into motion without too much pretense. His brothers were also valuable assets, as they could go with Ron immediately to Grimmauld Place. If he was being reasonable, Ron knew Fleur and Ginny would also be a useful pair of minds to have around. He needed as many people as he could assemble into a team to find where Hermione had been taken. There was not a second to waste. Ron clenched his jaw as his adrenaline peaked, driving him into a determined and alert stage, like a beast ready to prey.

His family seemed to rush at him in a single wave of red hair, decorated with a single touch of silver and another splash of black. Everyone was there, speeding toward him, a myriad of skills and abilities. Against the odds, Ron found hope in the sudden darkness that had enshrouded him in these torturous moments. The questions started immediately, coming from every familiar voice, undecipherable from one cadence to the next.

"Ron, what happened?"

"Where'd you get those gashes?"

"Who kicked your ass?"

"Where's Harry's shirt?"

"Yeah, Harry, where's your shirt?"

"Why is Harry here? Didn't he move out?"

"Ron? Are you hurt?"

Ron took a breath.

"Grimmauld Place was attacked. Dark curses. Death Eaters. Probably in Ginny's room. He needed some snogging. No, I'm fine," Ron said quickly to the frozen faces of The Weasleys and Harry.

"Oh sweet Merlin!" Charlie groaned. He immediately took the dittany from his pack (he always kept some around for burns) and began meticulously healing Ron's face. He blew a soothing breath to dry the salve, having to stretch up to reach Ron's cheek. Pain Ron wasn't even aware of came and went quickly. Charlie was nearly Molly's equal when it came to healing spells; danger in his line of work made it necessary.

"Ron!" Harry exclaimed. "Someone got into Grimmauld Place? How? I've got wards up." Harry gripped Ron's shoulders. The question was valid, and added to the myriad of riddles Ron felt he needed to solve. What could break wards so easily without being detected?

Ron shook away the question of the wards, knowing other things needed to take priority. "I'm not sure, Harry, but we need to find out. We need to find out a lot of things! They took Hermione," Ron whispered the last part, holding tightly to Harry for strength, afraid that saying it out loud would make it somehow worse.

"But how did you make it out?" Molly gasped, coming from Ron's periphery and wrapping her arm around her son's waist. Ron sighed a little, releasing some tension. His thoughts began to become clearer in his mother's warm embrace. He clenched and unclenched the muscles in his shoulder, turning to look at her.

"Kreacher must have Disapparated away with me after I was knocked out. When I woke up here, he was trying to revive me. He told me Hermione was taken," Ron said, his body tensing again.

"We need to get back there," Harry proclaimed urgently. Ron turned to him and nodded thoughtfully.

"Dad?" Ron started, turning to his father. "Can you go to the Ministry and get Kingsley? We need to go over what happened so we can get to Hermione."

Arthur nodded, kissed Molly, and Disapparated immediately. Ron felt a sense of pride that his father was so quick to take action, even after being softened by years of love and contentment

"We should all go to Grimmauld place to figure out how this happened. How did the wards fail and with what magic? Bill, can you go there right away and try to answer that?" Ron knew Bill was the only one among them who could thoroughly solve this riddle. Deep within his mind, Ron wondered if a certain spell could be traced. Some spells were unique to different groups of people. "Could you run a trace on all spells too, Bill?"

"Sure, Ron, anything to help. I'll see what I can do. I've got a lot of ways to trace the remnants of spells. The Egyptians were very experienced at breaking a code of specific spells before they ever entered an ancient tomb. Fleur, will you stay here and figure out what Ron needs?" Bill started, he looked to his wife just as her nostrils began to flare anxiously. "Now. Now. Now! I'm not asking you to stay out of things. It's just that I can do this on my own, and you are needed elsewhere, I'm sure."

Bill kissed her, turned sharply on the spot, and Apparated away.

Ron paused in the middle of this constant stream of ideas, his head swimming as he tried to tick away the possibilities of what to do next. He wasn't a natural leader, Harry was. The thought nagged at Ron somewhere amidst the mission he had instantly taken up. But this involved _**his**_ Hermione, and no one else could possibly feel what he felt in this moment. Everyone was looking to him for answers. He felt lost without her by his side. He had no sense of direction when the sounds of her deep and even breaths mingling with his were not invading his ears. He was without a real home when she wasn't near, when he didn't know if she was even alive. And yet, here he was, small and lost, leading a makeshift army of his loved ones.

Ron took a deep breath, imagining her scent mingling with the cool night air. He set his mind on her face, hidden from him somewhere. He was determined that he would find her. Ron felt this was his duty, his task. Despite the support of his family, as well as the probably assistance of the Ministry's involvement, Ron knew without doubt that this puzzle was for him to solve. He sighed, letting air flush out of his lungs, and lunged into a new wave of instructions.

"Right. Harry? Can you get a pensieve, or even make one out of something? I need to look at my memory from the outside. And if I haven't gotten his ears in a twist, I'd like to see Kreacher's too.

"I'll see what I can come up with, mate," he said, vanishing with a '_pop_'.

_Tell me are you feeling lost, have you crossed  
In the places that you never knew to get through  
Tell me are you gonna cry all night  
Tell me the truth, and I'll tell you the truth  
If you gamble everything for love  
You gonna be alright, alright_


	3. Make a List of Things You Need

_Make a list of things you need, leave it empty_

_Make a list of things you need, leave it empty  
Except for number one, write "love", gamble everything  
Keep it under lock and key  
If you wanna, you can gamble everything for love_

As soon as he arrived in Grimmauld Place, Ron raced up the stairs. Kingsley and a bevy of Aurors were crowded around two bodies draped in black and sprawled across the floor. Ron had suffered of moment of guilt at the thought that he took another person's life, but the guilt disappeared as quickly as Hermione had mere hours ago.

"Well, Ronniekins, you left two dead," Charlie said, inexplicably swelling with pride.

"No, Hermione got one," Ron mumbled, replaying the scene in his head. He kept playing it over and over, trying to find some insight into what had happened. Repeatedly, and from as many different angles as his mind could bend, Ron would go over every single agonizing moment, trying to piece together the details in his addled mind.

"What's that, dear?" Molly rang in, lifting her wand and doing a scan for clues along the wall.

A sudden idea struck him and Ron began running back down the narrow stairs, shouting, "I need paper!" He made his way into the drawing room. He had been hit with the idea to draw out a map, a sketch, of what he knew about that brief battle upstairs. He ran back to the scene with a bit of parchment and a quill in hand. His mother seemed to know exactly what his intentions were and conjured a small surface to write on.

"Ron, I'm going to get Harry. A Pensieve might help you to backtrack," Ginny said. Ron felt slightly comforted by the knowledge that Ginny was on his train of thought as well.

Harry rushed to Ron's side with a small glass bowl and two phials, one full.

"After how you snapped at him, I practically had to order Kreacher to give me this memory," Harry said, looking like he'd just been in a struggle with a difficult cat.

"Hermione's not going to like that, mate," Ron said, a knife twisting into his chest when he said her name. Would he ever see her again to tell her the tale, to watch her beautiful cheeks burn in frustration at the thought of a house elf being ordered?

After what felt like an eternity of sketching out the chain of events, and sifting through broken bits of memory, Ron seemed to draw the conclusions he was hoping for. His adrenaline-fueled mind had managed to create a timeline. First, everything went dark, and Hermione screamed. Ron rushed out. There was a struggle, followed by Ron casting 'reducto'. After that Death Eater fell, no one retaliated or followed. Yaxley was lying dead in front of them, and he was the first of five attackers.

Ron determined that two more followed, and one of them had been dropped on his head by Hermione's spell. That had to have been the other body. This left only three unaccounted for.

The woman that Ron remembered was most likely Alecto Carrows. He could think of no other female Death Eaters. That left two suspects that were yet unnamed. Kreacher had not seen anything other than Hermione being dragged away by 3 masked men. Ron saved the memory, and Hermione's frightened expression as she reached for him for later personal torture.

"Kingsley?" said Ron, starting to walk over to the tall dark Minister as he was processing the two bodies.

"Yes, Mr. Weasley, what have you deduced?"

"Yaxley is on the ground. I killed him," Ron began as Kingsley gave a knowing nod. "And Hermione killed the other bloke by dropping him on his head. I can't figure out tow of them, but I'm sure Alecto Carrows was the woman we heard."

"Yes, that is the body of Alecto over there, but she died from the sheer force of the House Elf's magic as he pulled you away from her. There was no head injury." Kingsley said, raising a speculative brow.

"Then who did Hermione flip into the air?" The question ate at him, as saying her name burrowed a hole deeper within.

"That would be the question…" Kingsley said, his regal chin meeting his hands to ponder the new information.

Ron opened his hastily drawn sketch and walked to where the stuck figure had been drawn hanging upside down. Barely visible on the threadbare rug was a black hair. Eyes not fueled by adrenaline may not have seen it, but Ron's did.

"Harry!" Ron shouted, causing his raven-haired friend to fly into the air from the sudden noise.

Several Aurors toppled over in the midst of their wand scans.

"Harry," he repeated more quietly, " Do you have any polyjuice here?"

Harry thought for a moment, and then shook his head. "No, but why? We don't even know where to find her, let alone if we'll need a disguise."

"Ha!" Ginny smiled and Ron could tell she was on his wavelength.

"I will get some from the Ministry," Percy said from somewhere behind Ron's back.

Ron had thought that Percy hadn't been on the lawn when they decided to come to Grimmauld Place, and felt sheepish that he hadn't even noticed Percy's absence.

"Percy, where were you all night? I waited up!" Molly exclaimed, appearing at the top of the stairs and hugging her son tightly. Though Percy was a full-grown wizard, Molly was so glad to have her son back with the family that she clung to him. Everyone seemed to be making up for lost time since Voldemort's fall.

Ron's heart sank into his stomach at that thought. He and Hermione had lost a year, and they hadn't moved to make up for it. He had allowed his to fears get in the way of truly being with her, truly being her lover, and now he might never get the chance. Ron's resolve threatened to sink into defeat and self-loathing. He swallowed the metaphor and kept on working to find her. He would fix it. It would be better. He just had to find her.

"I was at Audrey's" Percy answered once he was free of his mother's grasp. He seemed to puff his chest out a bit, blushing at the same time.

"When am I going to meet your Audrey? No son of mine will be spending all night with a girl I do not know!" Molly commanded, looking sharply at him.

"Mother, she's a muggle, it's complicated. I… nevermind, this isn't the time. Ron," he said, turning back toward his brother. "I'll be back with some potion," he finished, Disapparating on the spot.

Molly made her way back down the stairs, mumbling something about indecency and scarlet women, but with a pronounced smirk on her face.

When Percy came back, Harry immediately grabbed the potion, clearly intending to drink it, while citing his duties as host. Ron was determined to do it himself, needing to be active in his search for Hermione at every second to avoid feeling what was bubbling just below the surface.

"This is officially a Ministry operation, and I will only allow a trained Auror to drink this. Biggs, if you will," Kingsley commanded, handing the bottle to a tall blonde man with mint green eyes. Minutes later, he had fully transformed.

"Runcorn," Arthur whispered, his face reddening. "I've searched his home many times to round up the remaining Death Eaters, but I have not found him or any of his compatriots."

"Then you know where he lives! Let's go," Ron said, pushing past everyone and down the stairs.

"Not. So. Fast." Kingsley said, and Ron froze on the spot involuntarily. "I am heading this investigation. While you've proven yourself more than capable, I need to secure Runcorn's home first. Why don't you rest for a few hours? I have a feeling we will have a fight on our hands tomorrow, and we'll need all the fully-functioning help we can get."

Ron sagged, his adrenaline ebbing in helplessness. Charlie placed a hand on his shoulder and guided him to the nearest bedroom. The soft click of the door felt like something was shattering in Ron's soul.

He sat on the floor and placed the washbasin in front of him. Ron removed a phial from his pocket and poured it slowly into the bowl. He peered in, watching Hermione be pulled away over and over again. He resisted the urge to jump into the memory and stay there forever, trying to reach out to her.

When he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer, he got up and lay in bed, fully clothed in case he needed to leave quickly. He turned on his side, staring blackly at the empty pillow next to him. Even though they had barely kissed, he knew she belonged there, sleeping next to him.

Ron reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out his Deluminator. He had been covertly listening for her to come through it all day, but not even a sound was heard. He tried not to think about what it meant, that she wasn't speaking, and just focused on her voice. He clicked on the small device, and several balls of light hung over his head after that.

"Hermione. Hermione. Hermione," He whispered, shouted, and pleaded through the night while stark, recycled light shone, obliquely into his eyes. At some point, fitful rest found him.

* * *

_Love me with an open heart tell me anything  
We can find a place to start to gamble everything_

Ginny looked over her father's shoulders as he and Kingsley deliberated over a map of Northumberland, picking out where Runcorn lived, and where the nearest Death Eaters were in the area. There weren't even any other Death Eaters in his county, as Runcorn lived somewhere very sparsely populated.

The map she was gazing at was a sort she had never seen. There were no moving pieces, no illusions, and no magical locations. Her father called it a tap o giraffe-ic map, and she smiled slightly in the midst of this crisis at the way he marveled at the skill involved in recording different elevations. Kingsley placed a solitary red pin at the location of Runcorn's distant home, and used a permanent sticking charm to post it on a wall in the hallway, now a makeshift command post.

Finding Runcorn's house and mounting an attack was their best chance to find Hermione. Ginny grabbed her wand tightly, already resolved to fight no matter what, and decided to try to find Harry in the interim. It was best for both of them to get rest if they wanted to be of any use to their dear, missing friend.

Ginny crept silently down the stairs until she reached the ground floor. The narrow hallways gave way to a high ceiling and an opulent study. Harry was seated on the edge of a stiff, wooden chair in front of a dark oak table. He was transfiguring different items into wide, flat bowls. He looked determined but frustrated and hopeless. His glasses were slightly askew and his hair was even messier than normal. In truth, he looked absolutely beautiful to Ginny, almost too perfect to touch.

She smiled sadly and walked carefully toward him, placing a hand on Harry's wrist to lower his wand. He slammed his free hand on the table in frustration. He closed his magnificent eyes and took a deep breath.

Ginny grabbed his chin and turned his face upward toward her. His eyes were a menacing green, with a brightness she could never resist. His eyes always penetrated her soul in a way she had never experienced with anyone else before. As she placed her hands on the sides of his face, Harry turned and kissed the palm of her hand.

"I just thought Ron might need something better to view those memories in. I don't know what else to do," he finished miserably.

"Harry, love, I've learned that sometimes we have to languish and let the chips fall a little before the path is set. I waited for you for a year and did what I could, but not what I wanted to do. It hurt, but yielded great results. I was needed at Hogwarts. You're needed now. Roles are not always clear-cut, so let it be enough that you are here," she finished gently and kissed his smooth lips.

Ginny always kept her feelings to herself, never letting anyone see the cards she held. Not even Harry knew of the aching grief that dug a hole for Fred deep within her, even in this very moment. She needed to be strong for him, but she felt like a fraud for advertising patience and calm when she, herself, wore a façade of strength. But all of her pain would have to wait for a little longer as Ginny plunged into another fight.

Quite suddenly, Harry pushed her back onto the couch, kissing her deeply. When his lips found her neck, Ginny wanted to ask him what had gotten into him, but was so overcome by the light kisses that all she could do was move to give him better access. She moaned deeply, and Harry echoed her, his hand rubbing up and down her sides, sliding her shirt up inch by inch. His pace was torturous.

"Harry, please," Ginny moaned, arching her back closer to his warm body. He complied with a groan, pulling her shirt over her head and covering her abdomen with his lips, hands, and hair. She threaded her fingers in his hair as his kisses traveled below her navel. She couldn't help holding a deep breath when she felt his fingers slide under the band of her jeans. She let out a small, nervous tremble.

She felt Harry's head leave her, and his glorious jeweled eyes immediately met hers. "Are you okay? Should I stop?" He asked anxiously, placing his hands carefully on her face. She was touched, but flabbergasted by his concern. Speechless, she simply kissed him again, letting her tongue move over his. He kissed her back, and she felt that maybe the sides of his mouth were curved in a smile as his hand cupped her breast.

"Ginny…" he moaned.

She gasped when she felt his thumb tease her nipple through her thin cotton bra, and his hips ground into hers in an answer. After more teasing, Ginny's hips were moving up and down, needing Harry inside her more than she needed air. Thankfully his hands had traveled down and were deftly unzipping her jeans.

"Gin?" Harry whispered. She looked up through half-dazed lids, "Hold on." He Apparated them upstairs to his room, and as soon as her feet hit the ground, Harry was removing her jeans. She laughed despite herself and yanked his Oxford cloth shirt over his head. After such a painful year, such a frightful night, Ginny wanted nothing more than to be lost in him, to drown in his deep, green eyes.

Ginny let her lips roam over his chest, enjoying how defined his muscles had become, even though his body was very lean. She ran her hands over the light smattering of hair on his chest and down his hard stomach. He grabbed her hand and kissed her fingertips, gazing at her with a thousand words etched on his face. She unzipped his trousers and slowly ran her hand under the band of his drawers. She was nervous, but gripped him firmly, wrapping her hand around his long, hard shaft. It wasn't very wide around, as her fingers did meet, but Harry felt long and smooth against her palm. He loudly moaned her name.

He began to run his thumb back over her nipples when there was a loud crash from the cupboard in the corner. Harry dove toward his trousers to reach for his wand as Ginny quickly shook hers out of her jeans. It was too late. A Boggart floated toward them, changing into a Dementor when Harry jumped in front of her.

"_Expecto Patronum_!" he shouted, obviously forgetting it was imagined when faced with such a fearsome creature. As his magnificent stag reared at the Dementor, Ginny stepped forward.

The offending apparition turned into Hagrid, carrying Harry's lifeless body in his arms, tears falling down his face. Ginny allowed herself one sob before shouting '_Riddikulus_'. The Boggart form of Harry suddenly sprang to life and began waltzing with Hagrid. Ginny laughed,causing the image to disappear.

She fell to the ground, and let a tear fall down her face. The glorious stag approached her and trotted around her, making Ginny feel oddly warm and comforted.

"Ginny, your boggart! Gin…I…" Harry started walking over to her and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, pressing his face into her neck and pulling her as close as he could. As the ethereal stag circled the pair, Ginny was struck by an idea. For a short moment, Ginny felt her heart rip at the sight of Harry dead for the second time, a repeat of the pain. But after she mustered her courage, it was Harry's patronus that brought her back from the edge of that painful memory. A thought buzzed in her head: _What if Hermione was at that edge?_

"Put your pants on, Harry, we need to see Ron," Ginny commanded as she hurriedly dressed.

"What is going on?" Harry demanded, rushing behind Ginny as they padded barefoot down the hall, zipping his pants up while he jogged to catch up with her.

Ginny knocked gently on her brother's door, and when there was no answer, she let herself in. The scene around her was heartbreaking; Ron lay in a fetal position, clutching his Deluminator, his closed lids shadowed with stress, and his memory of Hermione being taken playing over and over in the makeshift Pensieve in front of him. Ginny knelt beside his bed and took his hand in hers.

Ron's eyes cracked open and he rubbed them wearily. "Gin? Whasamadder?" Ron asked, sitting up and reaching for his wand.

"Nothing, Ron. I just had an idea that I wanted to run by you, a way that might help Hermione at least _feel_ okay," Ginny said carefully, gauging his reaction.

Ron sat up and gave her a look that indicated she had his attention.

"Well, do you remember what it felt like to have a patronus around? You felt comforted, more protected, didn't you?" Ginny looked up at him questioningly. Ron's pale face lit up suddenly and his sleepless eyes seemed to glow with a small glimmer of hope.

"But Ginny," Harry said, putting a hand on her back. " It would take a very powerful charm to actually track her down, and then what if she's somewhere where she might get…punished…for being visited by a Patronus?"

"If she's not already dead, they won't kill her over that. They need her to get to you," Ron said, his eyes dark and his fists clenched, "Let's try it!" Ron said, and then added "Harry, why is it that whenever you're around my sister, you seem to misplace your shirt?"

Harry just smiled and shrugged, Ron smiled back, but it never met his eyes.

"Ron, you are in no state right now. You need to create a powerfully happy thought," Ginny said, sitting on the bed next to him.

"Why don't one of you do it then? It's been 12 hours, I don't want her losing hope," Ron said quietly, obviously losing hope himself.

"Ron!" Harry said, putting a hand on his best friend's shoulder and gripping tightly, "You should know by now that anything that comes from you would be best for Hermione. Isn't that what you would want, a message of hope from her?"

* * *

_We can set this thing apart, cos we're gonna, gonna  
Gamble everything for love_

Ron imagined being scared and alone, then finding that whimsical little otter swimming around his head. Harry's assertion made perfect sense, but Ron's heart sank immediately at the new opportunity to fail her. How was he supposed to conjure up a good thought while he was so uncertain?

But he wasn't uncertain. He knew some things to be true, to have always been true, even if they were kept locked away for so long: They were destined, meant to be. She was his and he was hers. Despite any pain that might come, he knew that simple fact could help anything. And he knew this because the same thing that drew them so closely together had already gotten them through seven years, hiding beneath the surface and repairing their small but painful wounds.

"It'll come, Ron, just concentrate," Ginny said, taking his hand. Ron felt Harry's hand close around his other and he closed his eyes.

He thought back to the fateful moment when she rushed into his arms and kissed him passionately. He tried to cast his charm, but it wasn't enough. He fished through his thoughts again, remembering the moments he had held her, the moment their hands intertwined, and even her summer at the Burrow, but still his charm would not conjure. Finally, his mind settled on the day she burst into the compartment he had first shared with Harry on the Hogwarts Express, looking for a lost toad. His wand quivered from the force of his perfect charm. Hermione existed, she was perfect, and she was his. Ever since that first moment they had been destined…they had become a part of one other.

Ron's wand shook from the force of his spell as the brightest patronus he'd over seen came out into the room. The little dog was glowing more white than silver, and he darted out about the room in happy excitement, running around and through the legs of the three friends. His warmth radiated directly through Ron, and he did feel a bigger ray of hope. Ron leaned down close to the ethereal creature.

"I need you to find Hermione Jean Granger and give her a message," Ron said as the dog seemed to sit on his haunches, inviting the request.

"We're close, I'm coming for you soon, love…don't lose hope." Ron said, trying to sound strong so that Hermione wouldn't hear the crippling fear in his voice.

"Can you do that?" Ron asked. The Jack Russell Terrior repeated the information back and took off. Now, all they could do was hope it would work and wait until morning light.

"I asked you what you were doing here!" Bill's voice blew suddenly through the window, bellowing up from in front of the house. Bill was still outside trying to figure out how the wards had been broken. When Ron, Harry, and Ginny went to the window, they saw a Muggle standing on the stoop holding a brown package.

"Oh God!" Harry whispered. He immediately fell to the floor and put his head in his hands. Ron was confused. Was this brown uniform some sort of Muggle menace to society?

Suddenly, it hit Ron. It was a Muggle, who had somehow got past the wards of Grimmauld place, and was standing unharmed and unperturbed on the small stone porch. A Muggle got past the wards, because the wards only kept magical people out. They forgot to put the Muggle protection back up. He and Harry had been so careless!

"Harry? Do we…" Ginny started, when Ron suddenly punched the wall, hearing the crack of his knuckles, but feeling barely any pain. He sat next to Harry as Ginny kneeled on the floor and quickly healed Ron's knuckles. "Is anyone going to clue me in? Do we need to help Bill?"

"Oh Gin! When Harry and I refurbished the wards on this place last week, we must have forgotten the Muggle repelling charms! No magical person can get here unless Harry tells them, but any Muggle can," Ron said, filled with self loathing at his own recklessness.

"So all the Death Eaters had to do was conceal their magic, and use Polyjuice Potion to transform into a Muggle," Harry finished, putting the final bar on Ron's cell.

Ron knew it was his fault. He should have noticed that Harry's mind had been too caught up in everything that had happened. He should have been looking out for missed steps. Ron was supposed to be the observant one. Now he felt completely to blame -- completely useless.

"Oh, fuck you both. You screwed up, but you both should be mature enough to know you didn't take her, you aren't hurting her, and now we need to find her!" Ginny's quick anger seemed to subside as tears welled up in her eyes. "We love her. We've all been through so much…" Ginny wiped her eyes and Harry's hand snaked around her waist as he pulled her head onto his shoulder. "It'll never be complete peace, we can't wallow in our pain. This is our Hermione, and nothing else matters."

Seemingly unbothered by Ron standing there, Harry wiped Ginny's tears away and kissed the top of her head while she leaned against his chest.

"I'll go see what that Muggle wants," Ron said, spurred forward by Ginny's words. His one focus needed to be Hermione. nothing else. And when this newest crisis was over, his focus should stay there. In the past hours, her importance to him had become more than simply about love. He needed her more than he needed anything else in his small world. And now that he knew this, Ron Weasley would fight even harder.

Ron paused in the doorway. "Gin, I…" Ron began to apologize when Ginny put her hand up.

"It's okay. Just realize this: It's you she needs. It's you she loves. It has always been you, and it will always be you. That is all you need to know," she whispered. Ron walked slowly down the steps. After his revelation of how much he needed her, it came as no new news that she needed him just as badly. His body stiffened, and the sense of resolve in his chest roared with even greater intensity.

When they finally reached Bill and the Muggle, Bill's hand was in his pocket, gripping his wand with a mad look in his eyes. However, the Muggle was completely unbothered by the tension. "Are one of you Harry Potter then?" he asked lazily.

"Yes. I'm Harry Potter, but why do you want to know?" Harry's voice came through the front door as he walked through. The biggest question for Ron was how a Muggle even knew Harry.

"I have a package for you sir. Can you just sign here?" said the small young man. The messenger was not at all frightened by the look of their odd clothing or any of the strange looking circumstances of the house. Harry took the package and signed for it quickly. Ron stared at the young man until he finally began walking briskly away.

Harry bent down to tear open the package, but stopped dead as he met Bill's eyes. Bill nodded and ran his wand over the brown box.

"There's no trace of magic at all, no poisons, no potions…nothing," Bill said, surprised.

Harry leaned back down and quickly yanked open the small package. Ron had a horrible feeling in his stomach and reached in to pull out the note. There was blood dripping from the paper as Ron held it up to read, and he had to hold back a strong wave of nausea to do so.

"We have your…your little Mudblood. The proof is in the box. We want you. You know where to find me…" Ron started, but paused at the name, swallowing back fear to speak the next words. "Rudolphus Lestrange."

"Proof?" Whispered Ginny, her voice sounding very small.

Ron feared to answer her question.

Harry reached into the box and pulled out a clump of hair matted with dried blood. He dropped it quickly, yelling out in fear. Ron could hear Ginny vomiting in the background, as Bill rushed over to her side. Ron moved closer to the small piece of Hermione.

When he moved, it felt like all three pairs of eyes were on him as he dropped to the ground and took her brown hair in his hands. He brought it up to his face and breathed in deeply, smelling the bits of flowers and cinnamon that could only be her. This wasn't a trick. Someone had injured her beautiful head and Ron couldn't hold back any longer. He let out a strangled sob, gripped the hair more tightly, and squeezed his eyes shut.

"It's her…" he whispered, trying to find the strength to stand. He was again catapulted from his own emotional turmoil into another extreme, coursing with rage quite suddenly. "Where does Lestrange live?" he asked no one in particular as Kingsley and his Aurors ran out. Ron raised his wand and readied himself to Apparate anywhere he thought she might be.

"And how do you know she'll be there, or he'll be there?" Ron's mother's voice stopped him in his irrational train of thought, appearing and putting her arm around Ron's waist, running her hand down his back and calming him.

"We have a plan, everyone, and if you'd like to participate, you'll follow it." Kingsley's voice boomed so loudly that Ron felt his mother jump beside him. When everyone was silent, Kingsley motioned inside. Ginny and Harry walked hand in hand to the kitchen, Ron following behind, watching their intertwined hands with longing and determination.

When everyone involved was seated, Kingsley began to speak. "We're going to do this quickly. I've got 17 Aurors ready. We lost so many others that we are shorthanded," Kingsley said, glancing at the circle of men in black suits. Ron felt a fleeting impulse of duty to the group of magical soldiers, but found no purpose in anything but Hermione at the moment.

"We're all good and well to fight," shouted Charlie, rising up from his seat.

"Yes, as I had hoped…and already planned for. With the addition of this new development, we have two places to search. One or both could be a trap, but my research indicates that we would outnumber the remaining Death Eaters, anyway. We can fight," Kingsley said, almost seeming to grow impossibly tall at his own words.

"Can I ask that my family all fight together?" Arthur asked quietly. No Weasley objected. Ron felt pride in the fact that his family matched any Auror in skill, in their own way.

"I was going to suggest that. I think Lestrange seeks revenge for more than the Dark Lord's death. I think he wants the Weasleys there as well," Kingsley said, meeting Molly's eyes.

"Then we'll kill him too," Molly said, a strong stance taking over her short, round frame.

"I would be more comfortable if you went to Northumberland to search Runcorn's estate," Kingsley said. He looked directly at Ron, and soon Ron felt everyone's eyes on him.

Ron paused. In one brief moment, he seemed to take the leadership role. One small nod in his direction, and suddenly his family was waiting for his next words. He was overwhelmed, but felt relief in being in control of a situation he felt he had no other control over. "Yes Minister, that's a good idea," Ron said, determination seeming to ooze from his skin.

"Excellent, Ron. I know this is hard and I know what I am about to suggest is unexpected, but maybe someday you'll understand: Can you be in charge of things at Runcorn's estate?" Kingsley asked gently.

Ron didn't understand. Why would anyone put him in charge after all of his screw-ups? However, Ron was happy to take control, happy to become this mission. It was the clearest path to Hermione. If he was calling the shots, then he would be the first to know of her, the first to know she was okay. He simply had to be the first, so Ron nodded at Kingsley and stood a little taller.

"Right. Form a quick plan on the map and we'll synchronize to leave in 15 minutes. I've got my ward breakers at both locations so that we can apparate immediately," Kingsley aid, handing Ron the rolled up map.

Ron motioned for his family to follow him into the drawing room. Harry stayed, holding Ginny's hand, and followed them. It was no question to anywhere where he belonged.

"I think we should notify the DA and tell George and Fleur what's going on, Ron said once they were gathered in a private room.

"We should go home and get some things anyway, brother. There are potions, a few brooms, and some Portkeys ready in the shed," said Bill. After some discussion, the Weasleys informed Kingsley and Disapparated.

Ron was the first to arrive, and opened the door to find George and Angelina Johnson asleep, heads on hands, hands on the old table. He could hear a light snore coming from the living room and knew it must be Fleur from the tiny moan that followed each gargling breath.

As soon as Ron took one step, George and Angelina were on their feet, wands drawn, only to look relieved. Everyone else slowly filed into the house.

"We're going to Northumberland to look around and there is a good chance we'll be fighting. One of the people that attacked Hermione and me lives there. He isn't the mastermind, but he's involved," Ron said to George and Angelina. He knew he had to focus, but looking into George's eyes reminded him a blank piece of paper, and it ripped at his heart a little more. George stood slowly and trudged over to his family where they had appeared. He looked like he hadn't been sleeping since the night they lost Fred.

"We need to get as many of the D.A. who are willing to join us and we need someone to watch Hermione's house," Ron started. Everyone looked up at him confused. "I have no idea how far this will go, and I don't want anyone else getting hurt," he answered apprehensively.

"I'll go. I'm not entirely up for fighting…or company," George said, his voice lower and quieter than Ron had ever heard it.

"Great idea, but I'm coming, too" Angelina spoke up. "I know where she lives anyway."

Before George protested, Angie grabbed his arm and Disapparated.

"Well…um…now that that's out of the way," Harry said, pulling out his coin and casting the _Protean Charm_.

"Okay, while we wait, we need to talk about roles. First, we need to enter in from every side, in narrow groups. That way, no one can be wholly surprised and we all won't be victims if there is some undetected curse. I'd say three groups would be great. Who wants to lead off?" Ron asked, stifling fear and surveying the room. Everyone's hand was up, and everyone had an eager look on his or her face. Ron thought Bill, Harry, and he would be best prepared to lead.

"Trust me, Ron. Fleur needs to head a group. Just trust me on this," Bill said into Ron's ear, a grave and serious look on his face. Ron did trust Bill, and motioned for Fleur to stand off to one side.

"Bill, you've got to take a group, the one going in from the front. We need you there for curse-breaking," Ron said. Fleur's eyes shot up and met Bill's, he smiled, kissed her very tenderly, and stood on the other side of the room.

"I'm going to take the side," Ron said. He paused, trying to consider how to divide everyone up based on skill. Ginny and his father were both best with charms, which would do well against large numbers, and so they would need to be on separate teams. Ron knew he wanted Ginny at his side. All night, she had seemed to read his mind, and he was selfish in needing that reassurance.

"Ginny, you're with me. Dad, would you please join Fleur? Percy, I'm sorry I don't know, but how are you with charms?"

"Better than Dad and Ginny, I assure you," he said, his nose in the air. Ron looked over to see his father and mother beaming. Apparently, they were in on this secret. Ron felt regret at not knowing Percy better. He nodded, and Percy joined Bill to a firm pat on the back.

Ron couldn't help but smile at how eager Charlie looked, shifting his weight from foot to foot. But Ron had special plans for Charlie.

"I'm sorry mum, but Charlie is the best healer we've got. He needs to be the one rushing to help anyone," Ron said, worried he would have hurt his mother's feelings. Charlie seemed slightly deflated, but pulled out his injury kit and started added what he could from the cabinets of potions in the kitchen. Molly just nodded, content, clinging to Arthur's side.

Ron didn't realize it, but Harry had taken post on his other side. Ron wasn't going to argue. He knew that if Ginny knew Ron's mind, Harry knew Ron's soul. They would be a well-oiled group, even attacking from the side, where they would likely not have a clear view.

Soon, members of the D.A began to Apparate into the mix. Soon there were many of them. Dean and Seamus quickly went to join Bill and Percy. Ron felt reassured he had the best front line. Hannah Abbot arrived next, clinging to Neville's side, and Ron quickly sent them to Fleur. He had no idea what Fleur had up her sleeve, but Neville was adaptable, and would fit well anywhere. Ron didn't know Hannah well, but remembered her beautiful Patronus, and thought it might come in handy on any team. He let her stay with Neville to keep her spirits up.

Cho Chang arrived with Lavender Brown, and Ron didn't even register their presence as odd. He placed Lavender with Molly and Arthur, knowing she was most apt at transfiguration, a skill no one else in his family handled as well as others. Cho started helping Charlie, and Ron didn't even need to ask her where she wanted to go, he saw she fit in perfectly at healing.

Arriving late and in style was Luna, flying in on a Thestral and creating a racket as it landed on the front porch. "His name is Mortimer and he's a lovely pet. I figured he could help."

Ron stood dumbfounded, his drive and determination temporarily set askew by the odd pale creature on his front porch … and by the thestral, too.

"Right, Luna. I want you to watch for red sparks from above. I'm going to have Charlie doing a lot of healing work with Cho, and you can pick up the injured and take them to get help. Just watch for the sparks, and come down if anyone needs backup of any kind."

"It is a lovely night for flying…" Luna said. Ron gave her the coordinates, and she flew away swiftly.

Everyone else Disapparated as soon as they received a signal from Kingsley that it was all ready. Ron gripped his wand tightly; thought of Hermione's face, put his hand in his pocket to touch his Deluminator, and finally Disapparated as well.

_AN: When this finally publishes, I will be off getting married. My wedding is on October 11th and I couldn't be more excited. Suffice it to say, you might not hear from me for about two weeks, but keep an eye on my livejournal, I'll be blogging about my experiences! _


	4. Does it Make You Feel too Real?

_Tell me do you lose your way each day  
Are there people you don't recognize, do they lie?  
Tell me does it make you feel too real?  
Tell me the truth, and I'll tell you the truth  
If you gamble everything for love  
You gonna be alright, alright_

Hermione refused to fall asleep again, refused to be any weaker than she already was. It was a major feat, because her arms were chained above her head and her legs were chained to the floor. She had long since lost feeling in her arms, save for the burning fire in her shoulders, which were being stretched to their limit. She was convinced that the sharp pain in her right one signified it might have been dislocated, but her head throbbed so much from dehydration that the pain in her shoulder wasn't easy to pinpoint.

She had not given up, she couldn't. There was still so much left to do, to feel. Immediately Hermione thought of Ron, her best solace in this cold cell, and tried to warm herself with thoughts of his large hands on her back, his arms around her, waist, and her fingers twisted in his fine flame of hair. There was still so much more to experience with him, to feel with him. She had been through the fear, the doubt, the danger, the passion, and the loyalty, but she still needed to feel him physically, to tell him every day how much she loved him, and to see his deep blue eyes answer her even when his lips didn't. She had years of discovery left with Ron, if only she could get out of the hole she was in.

She had been hearing many footsteps shuffle past her cell. Men in dark robes and masks were coming around in droves, a determination in their steps. Hermione could almost smell the stench of battle on them. Sometimes, these dark warriors would meet her eyes, and different hues of malice would challenge her defiant stare, but each time she looked back, refusing to back down. She was meticulously counting them all, recording their size and even hair and eye color. She found purpose in ordering her mind into organized charts. She hoped that if someone was planning a rescue, she might be able to help … somehow … in some way … if she ever got out.

In one block of time (Hermione didn't know how long had passed.), a tall man with sandy hair spiking out from under his mask walked by. Hermione added him to her total. Eleven men was a laughable number for a battle if she was being rational. The thought made her chuckle derisively, though all that came out of a puff of air and a smile.

"Mmm? What's so funny? I wouldn't be laughing if I were in your position," he said, his tongue darting out at her through a slit in his mask.

"Oh don't you dare! When this is over, the tart is mine…all mine," came Runcorn's voice from his station in the shadows.

"Fine, you have this disgusting Mudblood. She's probably so slutty and loose, you'd find yourself wanting for real pleasure soon enough," the man sneered, walking angrily in Runcorn's direction. The silence that followed brought Hermione a brief moment of relief, so she could momentarily let down some of her façade.

But suddenly, her cell door was flung open and Runcorn's dark eyes were once again piercing into her aching head. She desperately wanted to scream out for anyone to help her, but knew from the pain in her throat that it wasn't possible.

" Oh don't you worry, love. I know you're innocent, I can smell it on you…" he said, bending down and breathing deeply over her whole body as she cringed. When he reached his hands out to touch her thigh, the ground began to quake and her captor's smile grew wider.

"Hold on tight, Mudblood, it's about to begin!"

He finished, brandishing his wand, and raced out of the small dungeon.

Hermione began to shake with fear. Harry was there, with all of her friends and loved ones, fighting right into the trap. Hermione's mind dwelled on the possibility that no one would make it out as the stone walls cracked and shook around her.

"What the hell are you doing?" George shouted upon landing on the ground in the Grangers' front yard.

Angelina simply crossed her arms, conjured a bench, and sat hidden in Mrs. Granger's perfectly manicured hedges. She motioned for George to sit, which he did after much scowling.

"George, I just wanted to be alone with you," she whispered, turning her captivating eyes to him. He was more than shocked to hear one of his best friends say that. He had been expecting some grand treatise on how he should move on, not the presence of a beautiful woman who simply wanted to be close to him.

George knew how everyone looked at him and what they said behind closed doors. He couldn't stand the pity constantly directed at him, especially not now. Yet despite this aversion, George still craved closeness and comfort, the unassuming kind that came with no ulterior motives. Seeing Angie gazing at him gave him more hope than he had felt in weeks. He closed his hand around hers.

They sat in silence as the sun began to find its place in the sky. George reveled in her warmth, relief spreading through him. Her silence meant more to him than any pitying gaze, more than any empty words. When she cast the proper camouflage spells and leaned her head on his shoulder, George couldn't take the unquestioned comfort any longer.

"Angie, why are you doing this?" he asked, fearful of meeting her eyes.

"George, you're my friend. I care for you immensely, and I'd like to think I understand you as well," she said simply, turning his face to meet hers. "I know it's selfish, but maybe I just needed to feel you too." As she concluded, Angie looked silently down at her hands.

George was overwhelmed. He pulled Angelina's long, muscular frame close as though she were a small doll, wrapping his arms around her and pressing her face into his chest. He felt her warm hands snake around his waist as her body expanded in a sigh.

"You have no idea how good this feels…to be needed. I've felt so useless since he…since…I just don't feel like I belong anywhere," George took a moment to suppress his fears at opening up to Angelina, and her deep brown eyes met his.

"But here…" he started, holding her more closely.

He placed his hands on her smooth face and kissed her gently, testing his impulses in the face of logic. He was relieved when she seemed to kiss him back, threading her long fingers in his shaggy hair.

They stayed like that for a time between minutes and hours, a time that lost all meaning except for them. His eager tongue explored her soft mouth while his hands never stopped holding tightly to her face.

The rustling of leaves parted them from their mutual healing.

George looked down to see Hermione's cat, Crookshanks, looking directly at him, obviously very angry. He started hissing while George and Angelina attempted to hush him in vain.

George placed a finger over Angelina's mouth when he heart footsteps on the dewy morning grass. A pretty woman with wild brown hair in a white robe came out and scooped up Crookshanks in her arms.

"What is it, you daft cat?" Mrs. Granger said, looking directly at George and Angelina. "I can't see a thing here! Sometimes I wonder if you're as magical as Hermione says you are." At last she shuffled away, although Crookshanks continued to stare malevolently over her shoulder.

Angelina let out a relieved laugh when the front door swung shut. George was hit by a reality when their temporary distraction ended.

"Oh Angie, what are we doing?" George lamented, letting his arm drop from her shoulder.

"We're being real. You, Lee, and F…Fred are my best friends, but all through that battle, all I could think of was you. Seeing you. Touching you. This tragedy can't change that. Nothing can." Angelina paused, and seemed to think about her next line.

"George. I know this seems fast, but if you think about it, it's not fast at all. Do you remember Christmas during sixth year after Fred and I broke up and I snuck into your room to play exploding snap in the middle of the night? You kept your arms around me through the whole game"

"Oh yeah! You were so lonely with your parents visiting relatives; I just couldn't stand that sad look on your face. I wish you would have stayed with us longer," he answered, a smile creeping across his lips. He wanted her around him all the time, even then, even after the not-so-messy breakup with Fred. He was still always happy to see her.

"And then there was seventh year, after you guys left…" she said, her smile getting wider.

"When we would come and kidnap you every other Hogesmeade visit so you could see how our shop was coming?" George said, smiling and scooting back next to her.

"Last Christmas, when everything seemed so dark, and my father was in hiding for being Muggleborn, there was mistletoe at the doorway of your shop. Of course Lee got to me first, even fighting off Fred, but I was hoping it would be you," she said, kissing along his jawline.

"I was so mad at Lee. He's such a randy guy sometimes. I was on my way over there…" George said, starting in on a tirade before stopping abruptly as Angelina kissed down his neck. "It's been years in the making, I was just too blind to see it."

"And I was scared of jumping into something when things seemed to be getting so chaotic. But then, when they were attacking Hogwarts, I realized that I was even more scared that all of my chances were gone. That you or I would never be more than best friends."

Angelina finished resolutely, gripping his shoulders with powerful force, drawing him into her eyes.

"Say his name again," George said, pressing his forehead to hers.

"Fred…"

"It doesn't hurt on your lips," he whispered, kissing her softly as everything else seemed to fade away.

)))))))))))))))))))))))))((((((((((((((((((((((((())))))))))))))))))))))))))((((((((((((((((((((((((((

Ginny felt the tight restriction of Apparition on her chest as soon as Kingsley gave them the signal. The moment her feet hit the soft grass, she gripped her wand tightly and felt around for Harry. She wouldn't let him out of her sight…not this time.

She could only look ahead of her, too afraid to take in the whole scene. She focused solely on Ron for a few lingering moments. In relief, her hand found his and his fingers squeezed tightly around hers as they followed Ron to the side of the large, opulent home.

"Shit!" Ron exclaimed as every light on the lawn came on. "Someone must have tripped a sensor that Kingsley's team missed," said Ron, crouching down and pointing his wand in all directions.

Suddenly, they heard a bloodcurdling scream and Ron turned to the back lawn to see Hannah Abbot sprawled across the finely chopped hedges. Ginny could faintly see pale creatures, like ghosts, surrounding Hannah and Neville, who was leaning over her in panic. Ginny thought the pale creatures were unchanged boggarts or specters, but either way, she had never seen them before. She could see her mum and Dad casting spell after spell to banish the creatures, but there were far too many.

Just then, she felt Harry slipping away as he rushed toward the struggling group in the back field. Ginny and Ron ran quickly in step behind him. "Incendio!" Harry shouted. Enormous bands of fire encircled everyone, and the ghosts screeched and pulled away from their intended victims.

Ron cast the same spell, joining Harry's strings of flame, and shooting them at the offending creatures. Ginny gazed through the whipping flames to see exactly what she was fighting.

They looked like people, but their smiles showed no teeth, their hair was in gray clumps clinging to their pale skin, and their eyes were colorless. They clawed at the air just beyond the fire, trying to attack anything they could. Close up, Ginny knew they were fighting Inferi and they were coming at them by the hundreds. Pale features moved wraithlike over the hills like a wave of menacing white converging on their small part of blank land.

Ginny watched for a moment as Ron and Harry stood, directing their fire onto their attackers. Others began to join them, creating a wall of fire extending as far as Ginny's straining eyes could see. She raised her wand to join them but heard Hannah cry out again. So, instead of adding to the wall of fire, she ran over to assist the injured Hufflepuff. Neville was hunched over her, his hands holding a torn piece of bloodied cloth to her abdomen.

"Shhh, Hannah, It'll be okay. You'll be fine. Just look at me and breathe," Neville cried, tears in his eyes. Ginny sent up red sparks and hoped Luna would see them through the chaos.

Ginny took Hannah's other hand and wiped some of the blood from her round face with the sleeve of her robe. Thankfully, Luna soon arrived and they levitated Hannah to her.

"Ginny, Neville, we need you!" Ron shouted from the wall of fire.

They ran over and took a spot on either side of Harry. "Can you all conjur Fiendfyre now?" Harry yelled, and everyone nodded. "On my count…1…2…"

Ginny didn't even hear 3 as she cast her spell. A rushed explosion of air zoomed past her ears. Blue flames rose farther than she could see and fell on the horde of inferi. Everything within 100 yards was incinerated.

When the smoke cleared, the smell of rancid flesh burned her nostrils, but victory invaded her chest as she saw the inferi that were not burned running back toward the nearby lake. Everyone was bent over to catch their breath, exhausted from their powerful spell.

Ginny placed her hand on her heart, trying to focus on it's beating. As she calmed, she felt Harry come to her. She looked up and he swept her into a bone-crushing hug, kissing every inch of her face. Ginny couldn't help but giggle.

"You barmy fucks! We're not done yet!" Ron yelled, sprinting toward the front yard.

The other side of the massive home held it's own surprises. Though there was still not a Death Eater in sight; Dementors flooded the tree line as silver animals shot from every direction. Luna's hare was the first to do battle, as she was forced to the ground by the feeling of the dark creatures. Bill, Percy, Dean and Seamus continued to fend them off successfully, so Ginny's focus was turned to the screaming coming from their right, where Ron was supposed to be working with Fleur to get into the house.

Two manticores were guarding the rear entrance, and were now coming at Fleur and Arthur fast, their teeth bared, ready to attack. Spell after spell was cast, bouncing off their thick hides and further enraging their red eyes. Ginny and Harry ran to Ron quickly as Lavender's arm was gashed by one of the manticore's sharp claws.

Ginny cast every spell she could think of, but nothing seemed to get to him. Harry spent all of his energy casting up sparks for Luna and holding a massive shield for the rest. Every wave of Ginny's wand seemed like an exercise in futility, and she was about to lose hope when Fleur broke through Harry's shield and turned all three beasts on her.

A bright crystal-blue stream of water flowed from her wand, getting larger and wider as it moved away from her. The bright blue liquid wrapped around the Manticores as they shrieked and flailed. A spiked tail whipped out and slashed across Harry's chest just as all three were suddenly and completely encased in glass.

Ginny's attention wasn't on the power of Fleur's magic. Harry lay bleeding on the ground, Ron on one side of him, sending a continuous stream of sparks from his wand. Luna, Charlie, and Cho were all sprinting toward Harry now, a familiar look reaching their faces as their eyes fell to his chest. Ginny's mind immediately flashed back to the image of Harry's limp body, falling over Hagrid's arms, moving directly toward her.

She felt herself screaming as she ripped off her robes and used them to sop up the blood. She felt a strong pair of hands wrap around her shoulders and pull her back as she struggled to get back to him She was forced to watch from a distance as Charlie cast spells and applied creams to Harry's now shirtless body. Excruciating minutes later, Harry let out a gasp of breath and Charlie let out a victorious howl. Molly broke through the crowd and conjured a tent around Harry and his healers.

"Come on, Ginny. We should get into the house and look for Hermione," Ron whispered. He put an arm around her as they walked toward the looming home. Ginny was happy for the distraction. If she couldn't lean over Harry and wait for everything to be okay again, then she needed to do something.

_Oooh you can go your own way,  
Oooh you gotta go your own way  
If you gamble everything for love_

Harry could hear panicked breathing and rustling around him as he tried to remember how he got in his current position. He struggled to open his eyes and blurred figures hovered above his head. He groaned at a sharp pain in his chest.

"Almost done, mate. I just have to get the stinger out and we'll be out of the woods," Charlie's soft green eyes were gazing at him, and Harry's vision had cleared enough to see the brown flecks infiltrating the grassy green of his irises.

Harry felt Mrs. Weasley's hand curl around him as Charlie called Cho over to help him with the extraction spell. He could feel the tension in the room and knew there would be pain.

"On my count, Harry. One…Two…"

Pain ripped through him. A sharp, burning feeling seemed to radiate from his chest and through all of his limbs. It felt like hours of prolonged agony as he forced his mouth shut to keep from crying out. However, in all honestly, it was probably only a few short seconds before the pain turned dull, and Cho's small fingers were running over Harry's skin with a soothing salve.

"Nicely done, Chang. Very good work. You knew exactly what would suck the poison out of him without me even telling you!" Charlie exclaimed, gazing at her with admiration. Cho looked up and gave him a shy smile, tucking a strand of her shiny black hair behind her ears. Harry had seen that smile before.

"Yes, thank you," Harry said, sitting up slowly and grunting slightly at the tightness of his chest. Molly leaned down and helped him up as Charlie and Cho began talking animatedly about his first aid kit.

"Ginny, Ron, and the others have gone into the house to try to find Hermione or any of the Death Eaters. Kingsley should be here any moment," Molly said, looking him up and down with apprehension.

"I'll be okay, Mrs. Weasley. Thank you," Harry said, running out of the makeshift tent. He needed to see Ginny. Harry was fully aware that he had just faced death again, but all he thought was that Ginny had to watch. He needed to look her in the eyes and make her realize he would never leave her.

Harry sprinted through the lawn and into the entrance of the large home. He flung open the large oak doors so that they slammed against the outer walls of the mansion.

"Good god, Potter! Have some courtesy! We're conducting a search here!" Kingsley admonished, gesturing the large number of aurors running a sensory spell along the walls.

"Have you found anything? Is Hermione okay?" Harry asked urgently.

"We haven't found Hermione yet, not even a clue. But we got 10 Death Eaters, including Lestrange, over at the other theater. I think this might be the last of them in existence, from what we know anyway. Now all we have to do is track down Miss Granger. But I assure you, we'll do everything we can," Kingsley said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Harry thanked him quickly and rushed up the stairs toward the sound of Ron and Ginny rummaging around.

"I doubt they've hidden her in the loo, Ron."

"Well I have to look everywhere. She's not here yet! This isn't over until I can see her again!" Ron yelled at her anxiously.

"Whoa mate. We'll find her. She's strong," Harry said, putting an arm around Ron's tense shoulders when he entered the water closet.

"I know, it's just…without the fight, it all lingers so much more," Ron started miserably. "And why is it you never have your shirt on?!"

Harry chuckled and had a witty retort in mind, but a light giggle drew his attention behind him. Ginny was standing there, burn marks on her clothes, ashes on her face, and her glorious red hair waving around her head. Harry didn't hold back at all, but swept her into his arms right there in the doorway and kissed her like he had just come back to life, like he wanted to after Hagrid carried him toward the castle, and like he was going to for the rest of his life if he had the chance to do so.

Ginny's arms wrapped around his neck as she ran her tongue ran along his lips, seeking entrance. He happily complied; tasting her warm, wet mouth like it was better than any drink, better than food, better than breath. He needed to show her that he would never leave her side again. That she would never again have to live with that fear. She pulled away and looked up at him with the intense stare he fell in love with. A loud 'crack' made them both jump and look back.

"Where did Ron go?" Ginny asked, looking all around her.

"He probably Disapparated. You know how he is about this stuff," Harry answered, kissing up and down her neck.

"Mmmmm. Well lucky there's an empty bedroom right behind us." Ginny said, grabbing his belt loops and pulling him toward the open room. Once they were inside, she locked the doors and lit the candles that were hanging on the wall before kissing him hungrily again.

"Gin," Harry said, immediately regretting stopping her. "Hermione…she…"

"I know Harry. I know," She said, flopping miserably onto the plush mattress. "I just…I can't stand this anymore. I can't feel like you're always slipping through my grasp. I can't bear to go through the grief of never getting to fully love you, the questions about the choices we've made. It hurts each time you let go of my hand, every night when I sleep alone, and every morning when you're not next to me. I always see your limp body, hear the cackles of Riddle, and feel my heart splitting. It's like whenever I close my eyes, you're gone again."

Harry's last ounce of willpower slowly dripped from him, and he sat next to her pulling her body flush against his. He held her tightly for a few extended moments, feeling her heart beating and relishing it's rhythmic sound. Then, he leaned back, met her eyes, and threaded his hands greedily in her hair.

"There is a team of Aurors out there, and your entire family, not to mention Ron, looking for her. He won't rest until he finds her. He lives for her. We can count on him to feel one breath of hers and go running. Right now, I need to feel your breath. You're here, and I am running to catch up." Harry whispered, kissing her shoulder as he moved away some fabric of her blouse to expose more skin.

Ginny let out a quiet moan, a tear falling down her cheek. Harry ran over it with his thumb, kissing her eyelids and whispering, "I will never leave you," over and over between kisses.

Her soft hands moved up and down his bare back, sending chills and desire coursing through Harry in equal measure. He groaned and pushed her back against the bed, kissing slowly down her throat and unbuttoning her white blouse carefully. Her hands ran through his hair, and when he finished, she slid the top slowly from her body, sitting up so that Harry was once again pressed to her naked skin.

He moaned when her warm lips traveled from his shoulders down his chest, gently laying him back. She sat up and examined the freshly-healed wound winding across him. Her finger ran slowly and torturously over the pink flesh, a haunted look on her face. She brought her lips down to it and lavished the new scar with feather light kisses. Harry's muscles tensed in longing for her to touch him more…touch him everywhere.

Harry pulled her on top of him, wrapping his arms around her hot flesh and kissing her hard on the mouth, their tongues dancing together. He braved his chances and ran his hand over her bum, to which she replied with a moan, grinding directly into his erection. Harry yelled out at the sudden pressure, involuntarily rocking his hips up to meet hers.

Suddenly, she had a devious smile on her face, and she ground her hips into him again. She kissed him softly as her hips moved up and down his cock, making it so hard it hurt. Harry met her with every thrust, moaning in pleasure, while still aching to feel more. He gripped her bum hard and thrust up into her, wishing her clothes would just disappear. At that thought, he pulled back and tried to catch his breath.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, looking concerned and placing her hand between them on his new scar.

"It's okay, Ginny. It's just…" He started, rolling them onto their sides so he could look into her eyes. "If we don't stop, I'll…I mean I won't be able…" Her fingers pressed against his lips to quiet him.

"Harry. I want you. I want this. We both need this," She said, capturing his lips again in a searing kiss. She bit lightly on his lower lip, pulling it to her, and Harry could feel his stomach lurching at an impending orgasm. He needed to do something to make this last as long as possible. She was too perfect to let go of that soon.

Ginny began to shift and soon there was no clothing between them at all, and her nipples pressed against his bare chest. He laid her softly on her back against the ostentatious velvet coverlet. He brought his hand slowly to her breast, the other holding her face and kissing her. He touched her soft skin, letting his fingers glide across her perfect pink nipples as her back arched up. He kissed down her neck, longing to taste every inch of her.

He let his tongue roll around the pink nub, savoring the taste of her pale skin and the sounds of her moans. He reached down and began to play with the button of her jeans, his cock twitching at the excitement of getting to feel all of her. He moved the zipper down and reached his hand inside her panties, feeling a tangle of hair. He moaned with her when his fingers plunged between her lips and dipped into her hot, wet flesh.

He kissed her again, and pressed his fingers farther down until they entered her, and she broke away to let out a loud groan of pleasure. He began to move his fingers around her until he found a rhythm that made her hips buck in time with him. When his thumb moved over a small nub, she practically screamed his name, and he knew that he was in the right spot.

After some ministrations, her hands began to grip his shoulder hard, and her knees pressed tightly on either side of him. With a loud moan, she contracted around his fingers until her breathing slowed. Harry moved up to her to meet her eyes, and saw her entire face was glowing with sweat, her cheeks flushed, and her lips parted. Her eyes were closed as a smile twisted on her lips.

"Gin…that was. Wow…I've never…I mean," Harry said, slowly pulling his fingers out of her.

"You've never done that? Are you still a virgin, Harry?"

"Of course I am. Not much time for being randy when you're 'The Boy Who Lived'. How about you?" he asked, fearing the answer slightly.

"We certainly have a lot of catching up to do, don't we," she whispered, kissing him gently. "I've never been with anyone."

"Well, we have all the time in the world, and I'd happily spend it doing that over and over again," Harry whispered. Then, gripped with the sudden curiosity to see what she tasted like all over, he licked his fingers slowly. She moaned loudly as his tongue ran up and down his index finger, savoring the sweet liquid.

"Harry, there's more to do with all that time instead of that," she said, her eyes flooded with desire. Ginny reached down and began undoing his belt, and with a deft speed that shocked him, she had pulled down his trousers and shorts. He removed them anxiously, lying back down to pull her close again. Her hands traveled slowly down his chest and wrapped around his shaft, as Harry groaned and bucked into her. She continued to move her hands up and down, running her fingers over the head and causing Harry to cry out.

He reluctantly pushed her hand away and began to remove her jeans. He pulled her bottoms slowly down her legs, taking off her sneakers before carefully pulling her pants and underthings over her feet and tossing them to the floor. He kissed back up her body, hitting some of the beautiful freckles with his lips as he came back up, and of course pausing to kiss her pert breasts on his way to her lips.

Ginny reached up and kissed him, wrapping her hands around his neck and pulling him close to her body. His throbbing cock seemed to rest right between her thighs, and he could feel how wet and hot she was for him without much pressure. Her hand reached between them and gripped Harry again, and he lurched forward, overtaken with need.

She guided him to her entrance, and Harry felt his tip enter her. He moaned her name, fisting the blanket tightly with one hand, while he tried to hold her face gently with the other. He knew this would probably hurt her, and he was scared to go further, even as his whole body ached for him to push.

"Harry, please…" She whimpered, her head thrown back.

"Ginny, no matter what. I love you. I'm yours. I'll never hurt you again. I'll never leave you again," he whispered, his throat closing with emotion. She opened her eyes and met his; her eyes were nearly black with need.

"Oh, Harry. Forever. You and I…forever," she spoke, still whimpering.

Suddenly, her hips darted up and his cock entered her quickly. He yelled out as her walls engulfed him. She felt the most indescribable wonder, like he was now and fully a part of her. After the initial shock and fog had cleared, he looked down to see her with her eyes clenched shut, tears leaking from them.

"Ginny…" he whispered, his hand brushing fringe away from her sweating forehead to kiss her softly.

"Harry, I need you to move. I want you to move," she groaned, arching her hips so that he went into her even deeper.

Harry began to thrust into her slowly, wanting nothing more than to quicken his pace and feel her over and over again. Finally, she started to echo his movements, thrusting to meet him, whispering his name as she did so. He quickened his pace until finally he came, stars bursting behind his eyes, her name on his lips.

He rolled over to catch his breath, grabbing her hand and holding it close to his chest.

Ginny moved closer to him, draping her arm over his stomach and looking up to meet him.

"Did you mean it when you said forever?" she asked, looking slightly anxious.

"Yes. I've meant everything I've ever said to you. You got me through all of it, out there. You were what I lived for. I fought for our world, but I lived for you," he whispered, his hand cupping her cheeks.

She turned her face and kissed the palm of his hand, closing her eyes and breathing in deeply, a contented sigh on her lips.


	5. Author's Note

**AN: I feel I need to add this note after a few interesting reviews. Please, put yourselves in Harry and Ginny's shoes. She watches him die once, and then almost die again. He leaves her for a year and then he faces his death without even touching her, only to face it yet again without fully knowing her. They keep trying to be connected, keep trying to affirm that what they have can finally be real, only to be pulled away from each other in the face of disaster over and over again. **

**So after over a year of waiting...a year of fear and doubt...they can't take it anymore. They are tired of living in a dream. Tired of fearing every turn in the road. They need each other. They need to know that they can finally be real, finally be in love.**

**They sleep together in the midst of more doubt and uncertainty because they can't go on any longer facing the potential loss of the other. It can't happen. Ginny needs to feel his blood pumping, his lips on her neck, and his soul mingling with hers. Harry needs to know that nothing will pull him out of the dream.**

**They will face the fact that they just did this while their friend was in danger. It will come to them again. But tell me, honestly and if you really think about it, what would you do? **


	6. Are you Getting Hurt?

_Tell me are you gettin' hurt, is it worth it?  
Tell me are the people strange, do they change?_

The walls shook around her, and the small army of men was retreating from the underground building quickly. Tiny pebbles were falling on her head, and Hermione could do nothing but let the ceiling of her prison rain down upon her. . There was a loud shuffling sound above her, like a slow march of water-logged sludge moving across the ground. She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on her home again. Somewhere safe.

"You can cut it when we get home tonight…" Ron's voice rang out in her mind. A slight slip of the tongue it was, but an entire life in her imagination as well. Hermione pictured a new home, not her soft white bedroom, but a warm fire-lit room. Ron's arm would be around her as they sat on a soft couch. She would have a book in her hand, while Ron held a sandwich in his, and they would be safe and sound.

Ron was her home-- that much, at least, was clear to her -- so Hermione resolved to do whatever was necessary to make that her future.

Like a wonderful omen, a silver-blue terrier descended from the quivering ceiling. Hermione's heart leapt as she met the creature's soft eyes.

"We're close, I'm coming for you soon, love…don't lose hope." Ron's _Patronus_ finished his sentence and then simply stared as Hermione let his voice play over and over in her head.

Beauty radiated through her, the pain in her body numbed as the little dog circled her body. Her hope and will were strengthened, magnified by the sheer existence of his patronus. She closed her eyes and pictured his smile, the creases of his mouth, spreading out in front of her with love. When she opened her eyes, the blue glow she had created earlier had returned.

Another voice floated in her waking dream _"Remember how he cried for you? Bella told me how he screamed your name…"_

In the midst of her peaceful vision, Hermione remembered that horrible night when Bellatrix had tortured her, but she didn't meet the memory with fear. Instead, she met it with perspective. When she had been screaming in pain, his voice had kept her from giving up. Her name on his lips had kept her from retreating irrevocably inside her own head.

Understanding swept over her in the company of the glorious little _Patronus_. Ron must be holding back. He was hurt and scared that night, but probably feels like a fool for being that way, for feeling at all. Hermione was certain that his fight at the bar proved her suspicions.

Hermione resolved to get out of this alive. The arrival of _his_ _Patronus_ proved that Ron was coming for her, and she would never give up as long as he was still fighting for her. As soon as she saw his face again, she planned to shower every inch of it in kisses, to whisper every reassurance in his ear, and cling closely to him with the intention of never letting go. Ron was her home, and she was determined live that way from this moment on.

When her eyes opened again, the little Jack Russell Terrier disappeared with a pop, and Hermione noticed that the mysterious light still lingered on her fingertips. She looked down and saw it coming from her heart as well. Intrigued, she spent the next hour working to make it bigger and more powerful.

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Charlie had been asked to search the surrounding woods for any clue as to where Hermione could be, because no one had yet found so much as a footprint. Aurors were magically stripping the house while everyone else was combing the area outside. Every inch of ground 50 yards in each direction was going to be covered until they found her. If that failed, they would move outward in progressively larger concentric circles. Charlie resolved to cover all of England if he had to just to relieve the pain in Ron's eyes.

The question Charlie forced out of his mind was whether or not Hermione was even in this area. Sure, the ministry maintained traces on all Portkeys, Floos, and international Apparation, but that still left all the remainder of Great Britain.

With his eyes to the ground and his wand point lighting his way, Charlie's mind wandered to the girl who helped him heal Harry following his latest battle. He smirked as he recalled the shyness in her dark eyes, his heart fluttered a little at her grace under pressure, and his hands twitched with longing to run through her long, dark hair.

"She's too young you sodding fool," he admonished himself, kicking up some leaves from the ground.

She was young, he repeated to himself, but she was also beautiful, capable, and mysterious. Charlie had never been so instantly influenced in his entire life. In a few short moments, even in the midst of battle, her image had invaded his mind and taken over his curiosity.

It was a hard feeling for him to fight.

Charlie was distracted from his own conflict by the sound of hushed voices on the other side of Fleur's iced manticores.

"Won't you just tell me what's upsetting you, Ginevera?" Percy asked, his tone polite as always.

"Nothing. And don't call me that!"

"That scowl is not the look of nothing," Percy pushed on.

"You're infuriating!" Ginny exclaimed, vanishing some stray sticks to continue her search.

"That I may be, but I'm also objective and uninvolved," he answered lifting his wand and whirling around a pile of leaves.

"I'm ashamed of myself right now, let's just leave it at that," she said, stomping away.

"That's a strong statement after the brave showing we just had," Bill said, coming from the left and blocking Ginny's exit. She huffed and turned in Charlie's direction. He, of course, followed his brothers' lead.

"If you can't confide in your brothers, who can you confide in?" Charlie said, blocking her path in the same fashion as Bill.

"Who? Hermione!" Ginny cried, running away from them and into the forest.

"Well, now I'm ashamed of myself, too," Percy mumbled, walking in the opposite direction. Bill shrugged and walked toward the house, leaving Charlie alone again with his thoughts.

"I couldn't help but overhear," an ethereal voice with a thick Scottish accent moved through the breeze. Charlie smiled, recognizing it even though the sound was still new to his ears.

"Tut tut, Ms. Chang…sneaky sneaky," he smirked, turning around to meet her eyes. She blushed deeply and looked at her feet, a smile dancing on her lips. "I guess I'm a shite big brother," he digressed, walking along a path that led deeper into the forest. His spirits lifted as he heard the soft shuffling of her feet against the leaves in his wake.

"I wouldn't say that. Perhaps you're just a clueless big brother," she said, catching up with Charlie and walking by his side.

"I am a man with an excellent eye for detail. I can identify the species of a dragon from miles up in the sky!" Charlie defended, using his mock outrage to stand closer to her.

"That may be, but obviously you have no eye for a woman's clothing," she smirked, walking quickly ahead of him.

"Well I'm not a pouf," he ran up to catch her.

Cho rolled her eyes, but when she caught herself, resigned to a blush.

"Ginny's blouse was on inside out…and backwards," Cho laughed, but her smile quickly left her. "Oh Merlin."

But her tongue had slipped too quickly, and Charlie could feel his face getting red.

"My baby sister? Potter?" Charlie began as he paced the small footpath.

"I really don't' think that's the problem right now," Cho said quietly. She put a hand on Charlie's arm, and he was instantly calm. Another first. Charlie's anger changed to a blush. He hoped it wasn't noticeable.

"So why was she so upset? She…um…had a good time," Charlie asked, slightly embarrassed by breaching the subject of his sister's sex life with this new spark in his world.

"Well, speaking from experience, I think she feels a little guilty for doing that while Hermione is still missing," she said, a far-off look on her face as she gazed back out across the forest.

Charlie was suddenly struck with pity for Ginny. He remembered the summer after Dumbledore died, when she had moved about the Burrow like a ghost, heartbroken and lost, despite her brave face. He remembered holding her closely in a circle of his family when Harry's limp, dead body had been carried back to Hogwart's. Charlie remembered the way Harry clung to her after the war had ended, once she had returned to the tower. Charlie was filled with understanding for his sister, and longing for that feeling for himself.

"If I almost lost someone I loved like that, I could never let her go. I'd want to feel her living and breathing next to me every moment," Charlie whispered, looking directly into Cho's dark eyes. He reached out and ran a hand down the side of her face. His hand was so big and rough on her soft, delicate cheek that he pulled away from the intensity.

Cho blushed that beautiful blush again, tucked her liquid hair behind her ear, and took his hand in hers to continue the search.

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George saw a mild blue light out of the corning of his eye and reluctantly pzulled his lips away from Angelina's. His mother's voice came out of the Weasel _Patronus_ very quickly and quietly.

"All clear, guys, but we haven't found Hermione yet. Please stay there in case she or her captors show up there," The weasel vanished in a flash.

"Oh, poor Hermione," George whispered putting his hand around Angelina's.

"I know. I wish we could help them. It's getting so cold and dark," Angelina shivered, pushing her body more closely to his.

"Well of course I'll keep you warm," George whispered, kissing her forehead. It felt like he was human again. He wasn't hiding behind clouds of anguish. He was needed, wanted, and loved. He had a large and wonderful family, but with his arm around Angelina, he truly felt like he had a place to belong.

"Or you could just come inside to keep warm," a disembodied woman's voice echoed above them. "I know you're here. I can hear you, and I'd love to know why there are wizards hiding in my hedges."

Mrs. Granger marched back into the house. Angelina took a deep breath and stood up, taking down all of their magical concealments.

"Where are you going?" George asked, already knowing the answer.

"She knows. We can't pretend we didn't hear her. We might as well go in to say 'hi'. Just let me answer the questions," Angelina smiled, reaching out her hand to help him up.

When Angelina knocked on the large wooden front door, both of Hermione's parents answered it, looking very worried. George and Angelina were welcomed in and invited to sit on the brown leather sofa. The Doctors Granger sat pensively in front of them in identical leather high-back chairs.

"You must be one of the famous Weasleys we hear so much about?" Hermione's dad asked.

"Yes sir, I'm Ron's older brother, George, and this is my friend, Angelina Johnson."

"Pleasure to meet you, and you Mrs. Granger," Angelina said, the epitome of class.

"Please, call me Diane."

"What is wrong? Why were you hiding in my wife's bush?" Dr. Granger asked.

George squeezed Angelina's hand to not laugh. She squeezed back.

"There has been a security issue and they have asked us to monitor your home as a precaution." Angelina explained, lying through her teeth. Dr. Granger sat back, satisfied with the answer.

"That's not true," Diane said, tears forming in her eyes. "I heard you say 'poor Hermione'. Now what is going on?" She cried.

Dr. Granger grabbed her hand and met George's eyes, his deep blues swimming with worry. "Please, call me Nick, and tell me what is going on."

"The truth is she's been taken, and we got the guy who did it, but we can't find her," George said, wincing in anticipation of their reaction.

Diane Granger started to sob as Nick slammed his fist down on the end table.

"Why? Why is it always our little girl?" Nick yelled through clenched teeth before getting up to comfort his wife.

"We're sorry. But let me assure you, my family, the Ministry, and a few good friends are doing everything we can to find her. We all love her very much and won't rest until she's safe," George said, feeling his throat tighten with fear.

"We should go lie down, Diane. They will tell us if anything happens," he said, helping his wife stand. Diane walked over to George, who rose up to meet her.

"I'm sorry to hear about your brother. Thank you so much for your help," she said, embracing him the way only a mother could. George let the embrace linger, feeling as though she needed his connection to Hermione to hold on to. He watched quietly as they retreated to their bedroom before he fell to the couch.

"I'm so fucking sick and tired of feeling so helpless," George said, his head in his hands. "I can't help them. I can't comfort my mother. I can't seem to let go of this pain and hurt…and I can't bring him back," He gripped his hair, trying to alleviate the pressure in his mind.

Angie got up and kneeled down in front of him on the opulent Oriental rug. Her large brown eyes drew him in and forced him to meet hers.

"You're not helpless. Look at how you've handled the Grangers. You're still keeping up the shop! You're still snogging the sense out of me! I don't see how any of this leads you to the conclusion you're helpless. More like human," she whispered, kissing him softly.

George pulled her into his lap, Her long, this legs wrapped around him, and he kissed her all over. His eager mouth chanced a taste at her lips, nose, ears, neck, and the lovely bones across her shoulders. Her dark skin was alluring and George just wanted to drown in her. He was grateful for her uncanny ability to put his entire world in perspective as his hands reached up the back of her shirt. He reveled in her muscular back and powerful physique.

A loud crash pulled him out of his trance as a rustling in the bushes caused them both to leap off the couch and the Grangers to come running down the stairs.

Wands drawn, George signaled for the Grangers to stay back while he and Angelina moved toward the door.

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Harry stared at Ginny forlornly as she tearfully and quickly dressed. He didn't need to ask her why she was upset, because he felt the same way. Harry longed to reach out and touch her, but his own self-loathing kept him from the impulse. She zipped up her jeans and made her way to the door.

"Gin…" Harry managed to whisper. She turned slowly and shakily to meet his eyes.

"I just need to be alone right now, Harry, I'm going to look for her. And if she…if we…" She cut off and ran down the stairs.

"Fuck!" Harry shouted, pounding his fists into the wall. His knuckles burned and he thanked the Death Eater's wealth for the hard walls. Harry felt he only deserved pain.

"_What were you thinking?" _He chided in his mind over and over again. Harry knew what he felt when he took her into his arms and led her to the bed. He felt alive, thankful. He didn't just want Ginny - he needed her. He needed to know that after enduring all the pain, he still had something real.

But now, after Ginny's guilt became too much, and she had to leave, Harry felt selfish for putting his needs above the needs of his friend. He knew why he did it, but hated himself for not resisting. And now Harry lamented poor Hermione, who gave up so much for him, who needed him, and he wasn't there for her.

Harry walked down the stairs, determined to make this up to her somehow. He wanted to start by finding Ron. A horrible though struck Harry: Ron was there and disappeared when he and Ginny started snogging. His best friend must be so hurt and angry with him.

"What kind of person am I?" Harry whispered, stopping at a mirror and catching his own eye.

"You do not strike me as any deeferent," Fleur said, startling Harry.

"Sorry, I was just talking to myself," Harry murmured, trying to dodge Fleur and make his way to an exit.

"Don't worry 'Arry. We weel find 'er. This isn't your fault," Fleur said, misreading his guilt. She put a hand on his face and her icy eyes met his. He was instantly compelled to tell her just what was going on.

"It's my fault because instead of looking for her I was in bed with Ginny," he hit the wall and Fleur gasped. "I was just so relieved she was okay. I was okay. Finally, I could touch her; I could be there for her. I didn't have to run, to walk to my death, to worry about leaving her alone. I don't know what came over me.

Fleur weaved her arm through his and led him outside. They walked toward the woods to continue the search.

"Zat night, when I came out of zee maze, Beel was the first face I saw when I opened my eyes. We had just started dating, but we were so scared. He thought he lost me. That night he held me as I cried for Cedric, and we made love for the first time." She explained, wistful but with a touch of sadness.

"That's not the same. I had a duty to my best friend and I let her down," Harry said, attempting to pull away form Fleur.

"No. You are right. It was very selfish, but to me that's what love is sometimes. And when you've been through all of that, it's much more difficult to fight that need," her voice was quiet now, her eyes misty. "I had to watch Beel nearly bleed to death in my arms. I would have never been able to stay way from him and keep fighting."

Harry sighed. She was right, but that didn't really change the fact that he was weak, that Hermione was still out there. Harry felt more human, but no less wrong. His moment with Ginny had helped him feel alive again, had made him feel reassured, but Hermione had been scared and alone nonetheless.

"I know it doesn't change anything, but zat's how life ees. It takes a lot of pain to learn zat," she said. Fleur leaned up and cupped her hands around Harry's ear. "Just make it up to Hermione."

Harry and set off to find Ron, looking to see if he could help his best mate in any way. When he reached the north end of the estate he saw Ginny, walking slowly amongst the decorative hedges with her wand lit. He took a deep breath and placed a hand on the small of her back. Her weary brown eyes met his.

"Harry I…I'm sorry I walked out. I just couldn't," she started, but Harry put his fingers over her lips.

"Let's just make it up to her and worry about the rest when she's safe," he whispered and kissed Ginny softly.

"Ahem."

Kingsley stood a few yards away, summoning their attention. "Have you two seen Ronald? No one else knows where he is."

"No, we thought he was in the house with you." Harry said, panic rising as Ginny gripped his hand.

Kingsley sighed and sent a shock of red sparks into the air. Everyone came running and assembled in front of him.

"We now have two missing. We cannot find Ron. Pair up, we can't lose any more!"

Just then, a flash caught Harry's eye.

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_Tell me are you letting go, do you know?  
I'll Tell you the truth, if you tell me the truth_

_If you gamble everything for love  
You gonna be alright, alright_

Hermione tried to push down the bile rising in her throat. The shaking ground had caused a hole to form in the roof of her underground dungeon, and in the rising light she could see the pale rotting flesh on the feet of inferi sliding across the floor. She had yet another seed of hope: If the inferi had been sent to attack, the fight must be going on nearby. Ron must be near.

As the shifting ground ripped open another hole in the ceiling, the chill became even more bitter, and Hermione could do nothing to get warm. Her arms were still tethered above her head and were devoid of most feeling, and her legs could barely move in their chains. The pain from the cuffs on her ankles kept her from shifting, and her muscles were becoming weaker. Her head still throbbed from the various blows she'd taken, and her stomach screamed in hunger.

But Ron was close. That was enough.

She craned her neck to try to get a better view of her surroundings, but twisting only caused more pain throughout her body. As soon as she repositioned herself, a gigantic ball of fire rolled just above her head, accompanied by a strong and overwhelming heat. She opened her mouth, but the satisfaction of a scream did not come. She closed her eyes, clenched her fists, and waited for the fire to stop. She was relieved when she smelled no indication of her own flesh burning.

The fire stopped and the rumbling returned, however, Hermione smiled widely as she noticed the sad, gray feet were going in the opposite direction. That small victory was followed by an eerie silence. Hermione counted away the minutes in her mind to avoid the madness, and 20 minutes had gone by.

Suddenly, she heard footsteps and saw the blonde haired man run up the steps, stop, and look back.

"Are you bloody mad, Runcorn? We've lost! They got Lestrange! Let's get out of here before we get taken to Azkaban!" he yelled, running out the door.

Hermione couldn't help but smile again. Of course those buffoons had lost.

"We may have lost, but I can still claim my prize," Runcorn leered, coming out of the shadows and opening up Hermione's cell.

Hermione's smile left her face, replaced by a silent howl of fear. The situation was now more hopeful and direr than it was before. Yes, Ron was close, but Runcorn had nothing to lose. He could take risks. He could not only force himself on her, but he could kill her. Hermione's stomach fell away from her at the thought of having to leave without saying her goodbyes. She was terrified.

"Not so smug now, are you Mudblood?" he sneered. He wasted no time in ripping off the thin remnants of her shirt as tears welled in her eyes. "I thought you were strong, but here you are, crying like a little bitch. Some war hero," he snorted derisively.

Hermione closed her eyes again and tried to find a way to Ron's arms in her last moments when a sharp smack hit the side of her face. "Look at me! I want you to watch how we treat nasty little Mudbloods in a pure society," he yelled. A line extended from his wand, and it hit her legs like a whip until her pants were in shreds.

Her skin stung as he pressed his hand on either side of her head against the wall. He kissed her so hard she was sure she was bleeding. His bitter tongue forced itself inside her reluctant mouth before he began to kiss along her neck and shoulders.

Hermione closed her eyes yet again and pictured Ron's face. His wide mouth, the dusted freckles across his nose, and his cerulean eyes swam in her mind. She was prepared to die, but she wanted to be with him as much as possible. She imagined her hands were in his hair as Runcorn's hands cupped her breasts, and she whispered Ron's name in her mind as her assailant began moving her knees apart.

Her heart was racing, and a bright blue light could be seen through her eyelids. She opened her eyes to see her fingertips glowing with the familiar soft blue light she had seen earlier when she had been alone in her cell. Runcorn didn't seem to notice. She focused all of her energy on that light, and imagined it moving to her throat. When she felt she was sure, she parted her lips and screamed.

"Ron!"


	7. Tell Me the Truth

_Gamble everything for love, gamble everything  
Put it in a place you keep what you need  
You can gamble everything for love if you're free  
You gotta gamble everything for love_

Ron was about to yell at Harry and Ginny for snogging in the middle of all of this when he heard it.

"Ron!"

Her voice. It was quiet and distant, but it was definitely her's. Ron's heart raced as the seconds it took to reach into his pocket and pull out the deluminator seemed to turn into hours. A blue light radiated from his chest to the tip of Dumbledore's creation. Ron clenched his fists, ready for anything, and was transported instantly.

It was dark, but the shouting rang in his ears.

"I don't know how you broke the silencing spell, but I'll be sure I break you for it!"  
a man yelled while Ron's panicked eyes adjusted to the darkness. The man was leaning over Hermione.

Ron's vision blurred red with anger, the scene coming to him in flashes. His hands on her. Her body in chains. Her skin exposed. The tears in her eyes. It all sped before him like a magazine of bullets wasting slice after slice across his mind, cutting at his eyes. Ron brandished his wand and screamed a feral, indecipherable yell.

Ron's arms slashed spells at the awful creature on Hermione. He was like fire; everything flowing from his wand at a speed unfathomable to even his enraged mind. The Death Eater was flung against the wall, bloody gashes appeared across his dark robes. When his limp body slumped to the floor, Ron's vision cleared and he could hear her sobbing in the corner.

"Locomotor Mortis," Ron whispered. He followed the unconscious floating body to the neighboring cell, bound it, and closed the door. Ron moved back to her slowly. He wanted nothing more than to scoop her up in his arms, press her body against his, and let her repair in his embrace. But he was so scared of the damage done, of what he would find, that his steps were not quick, but quiet and fearful.

When she came back into view, his heart ripped from his chest and his feet seemingly flew him to her side. Her face was soaked in tears and dotted with bruises, the smooth caramel glow of her skin had vanished and was replaced with a sunken gray. She was in nothing but a bra and panties, her skin covered in gashes and more of the dark, ominous bruises. Shaking, he reached her and put an arm under her tiny waist.

"Hermione, Hermione," Ron whispered, pressing his forehead to the side of her face. "I'm going to undo your arms. Don't worry, I'll get you. You won't fall," he said gently against her ear. "Alohamora."

The chains dropped and her arms fell limply at her side. She screamed out loud, fresh tears in her eyes. Ron saw one of her arms hanging lower than the other and looked up to see the joint pulled out of place.

"Bloody fuck, Hermione! I'm sorry! I didn't notice," Ron started, and she turned and looked at him, her eyes red and tired.

"Language," she croaked, and Ron felt his heart lighten slightly. His kissed her softly on an unharmed spot of her cheek. It was the first sound he heard directly from her lips in days, and though it was weak, her voice was glorious in his ears.

"Just hold on, love, we'll get you home and someone will fix you. I'm not sure you want me doing it right now," Ron said, trying to smile…to keep them both calm.

She smiled back slightly through her tears. It was small and pained, but Ron's hope soared when the corners of her beautiful mouth turned up that fraction of a centimeter. He wrapped his arms more fully around her and pulled her into his lap, trying to hold her injured arm in place. She wrapped her good arm around his neck and they both sighed slightly at the relief of contact.

"I'm going to get your legs now," Ron whispered.

"Careful," she said in a small, weak voice. He looked down at her legs, his throat closing immediately at the site of the slashed wounds, until his eyes rested on her ankles. Her perfect ankles, the ones Auntie Muriel said were too thin, were covered in dried blood. The cuffs cut into her so badly that Ron worried something was crushed. He swallowed hard, unlocked the chains and slowly removed them from her flesh. She hissed at the pain.

"Shhh. _Lenio Dolor,_" Ron cast a spell for pain, but didn't trust himself to make it too powerful. He cast the chains away and her legs fell weak to the side, twisting her body at the waist. Ron still held her up and wasn't' going to let go. She quivered in his arms.

"Oh 'Mione! I'm sorry. Here," he set her down carefully, took off his robes, and laid them over her. Struck with an idea, he yanked off his white tee and ripped it in half. He moved the robe off of her shoulders and took her left hand in his. He slowly pressed her wrist against her chest, feeling a small and unwelcome blush when his hand was against the swell of her breasts. He took the scraps of his shirt and fashioned a sling to hold her arm. Ron wrapped her more tightly in his robes and stood. He scooped her up and held her tightly, her good hand gripping his shoulder.

Ron walked out of the cell, but when he went to walk up the stairs to the exit, he noticed it was covered in fallen rock. When he moved one of the stones, the ceiling quaked. Ron knew the whole thing could collapse if he tried to get out that way. Urgency rose in him as he noted Hermione's eyes getting heavy and her head lolling on occasion. Ron saw the wound on top of her head and knew she shouldn't fall asleep. No yet.

"Hey Hermione, don't sleep love. I need you," Ron said, kissing her forehead. Her eyes slowly opened and her hand tightened around his neck. "I'm not sure how to get out of here, I need to look around."

He walked carefully down the dark hallway, his head bent foreword over hers in case there were more falling rocks. They walked past the other cell and heard a pained moan. Hermione jumped, her eyes wide.

"Don't worry, he's staying here," Ron said darkly.

"My wand," she whispered. Ron saw it, sticking out of Runcorn's robes. He'd recognize it anywhere. He crept slowly, leaned down, grabbed it and placed it in her injured hand.

A determined look etched on her face, and she whipped the wand out with her good arm, sending Runcorn flying into the corner. She summoned her chains and strung the Death Eater up the way she had been. She cast another nonverbal spell and he woke. Before he could even open his mouth, she whispered 'silencio'. Immediately, her eyes closed and her head fell back.

"Not yet Hermione! We're on our way home! I'm going to get you home, and then you can sleep," Ron cried, tears welling in his own eyes as he fought against the wave of fear in his chest. "I'm sorry this happened to you. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you," his nose nestled in her hair as he sobbed.

"Home is with you…" her weakened voice sent out that last message before her head lolled back again.

"Hermione!" He screamed, tapping her cheeks. She didn't wake. "Fuck!" He ran to the round room at the end of the hall but found no exit. He ran back to the stairs and pointed his wand at the hole in the ceiling of Hermione's cell.

Ron sat against the wall on the ground, pulled Hermione's limp body against his and held her tightly, waiting for help.

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Angelina watched with baited breath as George slowly opened the front door. She stood in front of the Grangers, ready to get them out if need be. She could hear her heart pounding in her head, fearing for George. She couldn't lose him. Not after everything they had been through. There was too much left to do.

"Alohamo…"

"Protego!" Shouted George, followed by a blast of light.

"Shit," came a female voice.

"What the fuck, George?" Angelina heard Charlie Weasley and she ran out the door.

Cho Chang was on the ground, holding her forehead as Charlie rushed over to help her up.

"We didn't want to wake anyone," Cho said, looking back at the yard. Ron was standing there, looking unreadable and stoic, and holding a large bundle of black cloth in his arms.

"Too late," Diane whispered, rushing off the porch toward Ron.

Angelina followed her, just in case, and when she reached Hermione, Diane leaned down toward her face. "Is she…" was all the woman could utter.

"No ma'am, she's hurt though. We're going to take care of her here instead of at St. Mungo's," Charlie answered, making eye contact with Ron, who still clung to Hermione tightly with a stone look on his face.

"I am an apprentice at the hospital and Charlie helps injured wizards in the dragon pens. I am confident we have everything we need," Cho's voice chimed quietly below Angelina's tall frame.

George came up and put an arm around Diane, guiding her to follow everyone upstairs where Nick Granger was readying Hermione's bed.

"Where is everyone else?" Angelina wondered out loud.

"Harry and Ginny are on their way. Luna is taking Mortimer to rest, and everyone else is cleaning up the loose ends back in Northumberland," Cho answered as they walked into the room and Ron very carefully laid Hermione down, sitting next to her on the bed and taking her free hand. He pressed it to his bare chest and closed his eyes, looking to be trying to swallow something difficult.

Hermione's parents took a seat on the footed desk by the window and Angelina settled herself against George's chest near the door.

"Alright, Ms. Chang, we need to fix that wound on her head and check for a concussion," Charlie said gravely.

Cho waved her wand over Hermione's head, creating a yellow aura. She ran her fingers through the yellow light as if she were playing the piano with her eyes closed. Charlie cast a healing spell on Hermione's head wound.

"It's good she's asleep, she is in a lot of pain from this head wound," Cho said quietly, still letting her fingers dance along the light covering Hermione's head and face.

"Can we give her a potion for that," Ron asked, his thumb moving gently across her forehead.

Cho nodded. "Yes, but I have to treat this crack in her skull first."

"Oh my little angel!" Nick cried, pulling his wife closer.

"It's a mild concussion, Dr. Granger, she should be fine," Cho said, casting another healing charm.

Charlie looked at Ron and then unwrapped Hermione from the robe. The entire room seemed to stop breathing, fearful of the damage done. When Angelina saw all the bare skin, she raced in front of Charlie.

"I think Charlie, Ron, and George need to leave for a short while. I'll help Cho," she explained, moving the robe back around Hermione.

Ron nodded, kissed her hand, and started walking away, looking back at her a few times, unable to move all the way to the door.

"Ron…" Hermione moaned. He froze and looked back again, his lips clenched tight to keep from yelling out, but his watery eyes giving him away easily.

"It's okay baby, I'm here," Diane said, taking Hermione's hand and smoothing her hair. Her breathing quieted and her quiet moans stopped.

"Come on, son," said Nick, clapping Ron on the back. "I think I have a shirt you can wear."

The four men walked softly out of the room, Charlie shutting the door carefully behind him.

Angelina unwrapped Hermione deftly, revealing a barrage of bruises and wounds. Hermione's mother kept her cries subdued, but her eyes seemed to burst at the site.

"I think we should get her abdomen and arms taken care of so we can get some clothes on her. I'm quite sure Charlie is better with external injuries, and I want to mix the pain potion," Cho whispered. She gave Angelina a sideways glance, communicating silently that some things needed to be left unsaid in current company.

"I can fix her arm. Coote and Peakes dislocated so many things so often that Madame Hooch gave in and taught me the spell so I could do it mid air," Angelina said. She delicately removed the torn shirt without moving Hermione's arm too much. "_Umerus positus_," she said, and Hermione's arm was instantly back to normal position. Angelina caught Cho's eye and received a relieved look after Cho had scanned Hermione's middle area.

"Can we find a sleeveless top and some shorts so that Charlie can come back in and heal those gashes and contusions?" Cho asked Mrs. Granger. She nodded and pointed toward the wardrobe.

Angelina began to search the clothes and found the task very easy. Everything was categorized by type and color. She grabbed a white cotton camisole and a pair of soft flannel pajama shorts to change Hermione into.

Ginny had snuck in at some point, and was crying openly as she looked at Hermione.

"I'll need her out of her current things to get her into something clean," Cho whispered. Without being asked, Mrs. Granger began removing Hermione's bra as Ginny slid the bottoms down Hermione's legs.

"I'm sorry," Ginny whispered over and over again. Angelina and Cho moved to the corner and averted their attention out of respect.

"When I saw her in her underwear I was scared that she might have been raped, but it looks like Ron got there just in time. Judging from the bite marks on her chest and bruise pattern on her inner thighs, she was in great risk of being sexually assaulted" Cho said, crossing her arms and holding herself together.

"She's been through hell. I'm not sure I could have made it through that," Angelina shivered as Ginny called everyone else back into the room.

Cho and Angelina watched as Ron hurried back to Hermione's side, kissed her cheek and whispered something in her ear. He had changed into a crisp white oxford cloth shirt.

"Then again, she had a lot to live for," Angelina whispered as George came and put a hand on the small of her back.

"Okay, let's do this quickly so we can get the pain potion in her and let her get some rest," Charlie commanded. "Ron, heal her arms and then use the dittany. I'm going to take her legs because they are too deep for a normal spell. Harry, could you get some dittany on those rings on her ankles?"

Harry nodded and all three men cast their spells as Cho conjured a cauldron.

About five minutes later, Ron was still gently rubbing the salve into her healing wrists, Charlie was closing the gouges on her thighs, and Harry held Hermione's feel gently in his lap.

Cho walked up and tipped the potion into Hermione's mouth. "She needs rest," she said quietly, motioning for everyone to leave. Ron and the Grangers didn't move, however, while Harry and Ginny also seemed reluctant to leave. "Well, someone should stay by her. There is a chance of her waking and vomiting, and we need to make sure she is in the proper position to do so."

Everyone looked at Ron, who sat unmovable on Hermione's bed, her hand resting against his chest. "I can stay. I won't be able to sleep any time soon," Ron said, never taking his eyes off of her.

"Would anyone like a cup of tea or something to eat? You've all worked so hard and look worse for the wear. You should all rest up a while," Mr. Granger said to the room, motioning toward his kitchen.

"That's a kind offer, sir, but I think George and I are in need of something a little stronger than tea," Charlie said, letting out a sigh of relief that he must have been holding in for a very long time.

"Understandable. You are welcome back any time. You know the entire Weasley family is always welcome here," Mrs. Granger said, hugging George and Charlie. "And good work, Cho. You will be an excellent…ummm…wizard doctor."

"Thank you, ma'am. I think I will accompany Charlie and George tonight, try to relieve some tension," Cho answered, shaking hands with both Mr. and Mrs. Granger.

"Thank you for watching after us, Angelina. You can feel free to come and see us if you're ever in the neighborhood," Mr. Granger said, a hand on her shoulder. Angelina felt an instant affection for Hermione's parents, understanding full well how she had become such a remarkable person. In so doing, Angelina felt a sudden urge to see her own mother as soon as possible.

"We'll be happy to take you up on your offer," Harry said, taking Ginny's hand and walking out into the hallway. The Grangers followed after them and waved from the porch as Charlie and Cho, Angelina and George Dispparated in turn, each headed to The Leaky Cauldron.

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Charlie and George walked into the pub proudly, Cho and Angelina firmly on their respective arms. The girls went to find a decent table while the young men sidled up to the bar to get the barmaid's attention. They did not have to wait long.

"Oh hello boys! How's Hermione?" Hannah Abbot said, a welcoming smile on her face.

"Hannah! I didn't know you worked here!" George exclaimed with mild delight.

"It's my gran's pub now that Tom is…well…I manage it some nights." She explained, avoiding the topic of yet another unnecessary death.

"Should you be up and about like this?" Charlie wondered aloud. He remembered how much blood she had lost and the length of time it took for her to heal. He couldn't even fathom working anytime so soon after such an injury.

"Well, I have a terrifying looking scar across me chest, but I'm okay. Neville made this herbal tonic that got me up and around quite quick. I look a fright when I'm naked now, but otherwise I'm good," she said, immensely cheerful and carrying a glow that Charlie couldn't place.

"Nonsense, you look great naked," Neville Longbottom came by mumbling as he bussed the counter. "I mean, what?" he said, blushing when he realized what had slipped. Hannah just smirked, handed Charlie four drinks, and walked smiling to the other end of the bar…followed closely by Neville.

"Wow, you sure let it all hang out when you're smitten," Charlie said, still a bit dumbstruck by the exchange.

"I think it's more than that. Having someone that makes you…that way…it's freeing I suppose. I mean, who cares when you've got your significant other to make everything else seem so small?" George murmured, walking toward the table with two of the drinks. Charlie followed closely behind, a grin spreading involuntarily across his face at the sight of Cho. Freeing was an apt description.

Charlie watched Cho's eyes shine with tears of laughter as George theatrically recounted the exchange between Hannah and Neville. The bright smile on her face made Charlie want to pull her tightly against his chest and hold her all night. He had felt that way about women before, although those feelings had generally been limited to the area below his waist. With Cho, however, things were beyond the point of base instinctual reaction.

The evening progressed smoothly and Hannah kept the drinks flowing. Cho had developed a pink glow despite her dark complexion, making Charlie think she looked even more incredible than normal. The four friends talked about everything from what they had just been through to childhood pastimes.

Well into the night, Charlie heard his name called amidst a raucous chorus from the entryway of the pub. Three of his mates from the Dragon Conservatory were swaying there, already yelling in celebration as though this was far from being the first pub they had visited through the night. They immediately rushed over to greet him, sloshing their drinks all over the place.

"Listen mate, there are some birds at a pub down the road who are very fit and only speak Romanian! Lucky us! We'll save one for you, but you must act now…supplies are limited!" his friend Brian said, bursting into laughter at his own words.

Charlie would normally have jumped at the chance. Under other circumstances, he would have shaken George's hand, paid his tab, and burst out of there so fast that his mind might not have been able to keep up. He would have woken up with some girl whose name he would be unable to recall, and left before she woke up. He would have been a happier man because of it, too. But after spending time with Cho, all those easy bets felt like they belonged exclusively in the past tense.

Instead, he was ready for something and someone more substantial. He glanced at Cho, who was laughing as Brian danced sloppily around the table and singing something nonsensical. She had immediately struck Charlie, and now every time she moved, his senses peaked as they did while hunting a particularly challenging dragon in the wild. Charlie didn't know if he had ever felt this way before, because he'd always ignored such inklings. But he had no intention of ignoring this. Instead, he wanted to experience the glow he had seen on Hannah's face, much like the one he was currently watching on George's.

"Supplies are limited! Ha!" Angelina yelled, slurring her words. The whole table cracked up as she instantly fell asleep on George's shoulder and began snoring.

"That's my cue! I'm going to take her home. Tell mom that I'll be at the flat, will ya?" George asked, throwing Angelina's arm over his shoulder and pulling her out the door with the aid of one of Charlie's friends.

Charlie drank in relative silence with Cho and his mates until their friend returned sporting a large grin.

"I just told your brother you won't be home tonight because you're going to be neck deep in Eastern European pussy!" he shouted, followed by cheering from the remains of the bar.

Charlie stood and put his arms around his friends. He saw Cho's face fall slightly but he smiled softly in her direction and gave her a playful wink.

"I'm sorry, mates, but I think I'm going to escort Ms. Chang home," he said, slapping his friends on the back before taking a seat next to Cho. He had to keep from jumping with delight when her warm hand found his thigh.

When Charlie's friends left, he turned his attention back to Cho, brushing the fringe out of her face. As he uncovered a large bruise left over from George's charm, they both laughed freely..

"I guess I forgot to heal myself," she said, brushing her hair back over the spot and looking at her feet.

"I could heal that for you if I could concentrate in here," he said, turning her chin up toward him, his voice fading into a whisper.

"You can always take me back…" Cho's breath was quickening as she leaned into his advancing embrace, "to your place." She whispered, her nose lightly touching his.

He grabbed the sides of her face and kissed her fully, his lips moving over hers again and again in hunger. His hands found her hair and moved through it like brushing through fine silk threads. Her hands were gripping his arms and he could feel her heartbeat moving against him. She tasted like everything good in every corner of the world.

He pulled away from her in a haze. Everyone faded away and all he saw was her now trademark blush and brilliant smile. They shared a small laugh as he grabbed her hand and helped her along to the exit. As soon as they got outside, they Disapparated.

At the last moment, they had decided to pick Cho's place, because once they got outside, they realized that international Apparition would be a headache at this time of night. The pair stumbled into her flat, and Charlie immediately resumed kissing her, as he wrapped his arms around her tiny waist. She leapt up, winding her legs around him, and sending him stumbling back more in surprise than unbalance. He hit his head on a low hanging beam, causing him to almost drop Cho in the process.

"Oh no! I'm sorry!" Cho exclaimed, jumping down. "I don't really have a big flat."

As she blushed again, Charlie looked around. It was neat and decorated with bright geometric patterns. However, the bed, tiny table, desk, and kitchenette all were housed in one room with a small bathroom to the side. Charlie could scarcely even stretch his legs.

"That's an understatement," Charlie laughed, rubbing the back of his head.

"Hey! I'm a 19-year-old apprentice! You try making money like that!" she smiled, smacking his arm. "Let me check your head," she said, leading him to the bed.

Cho sat him down and bent his head forward, kneeling behind him on the bed. She ran her hands slowly up the back of his neck, sending shivers up his spine. He could feel her breasts pressing into his back and longed to turn around and discover how they felt. He felt her warm wand touch the bump lightly. As she whispered a standard healing spell, he felt her breath running across his exposed skin. Charlie's erection was now straining against his black trousers.

Charlie leaned back and reached up to capture her face in his hands. They kissed deeply, her fingers raking across his chest. Charlie's hands found her sides and he lifted her around to his lap, causing her to giggle in an endearing and effortless way. He blew her hair away from her forehead.

"My turn," he whispered, casting the spell to heal her circular bruise. He laid her back against the bed and began kissing her neck. She moaned softly when his lips found a soft spot near her ear, and it made Charlie ache with need for her. He raised his hands under her shirt and over her stomach, resting on one of her small, firm breasts. Her back arched into his hand as she captured his lips in a luxurious kiss, her tongue dancing lazily in his mouth.

He moved his head down putting it underneath her shirt, kissing upwards until he reached the rounded flesh of her breasts. He kissed them and moved the thin bra away so he could taste her nipples. He flicked a tongue over one and she gripped his shoulders. He scooted out of her shirt and lifted it over her head, sharing a smile with her before adeptly removing her bra.

"Why, Charlie Weasley, I do believe you've done this before!" Cho smiled mischeviously.

"But of course none of them compared to you," Charlie said, taking the joke out from under Cho and making sure she knew this wasn't like the rest. She kissed him again, pulling her lips down to his shoulders while she undid his shirt and he hovered on top of her. Charlie became momentarily worried that perhaps this was her first time.

"Have you done this before? I mean, I know we're moving fast and you're a little tipsy…and you're so young," Charlie said, his confidence starting to wane. She gently pushed him away and Charlie's heart started racing.

"You're not my first. I'll admit it's been a while, but I've done this before. Also, I'm not really that pissed anymore," Cho said, kissing down his chest. "As for me being young…" she started, undoing the button of his trousers.

Charlie lost all coherent thought or worry when he felt her lips on his cock, her soft warm mouth causing his eyes to roll back in his head. He had to grip the sheets to fight from thrusting up into her mouth. He'd done this many times before, many shades and styles of hair had dangled over his abdomen, and he had enjoyed every minute. But this was different. The curtain of black hair blocking her face meant more to him. He coursed with something more intense than desire. He was overcome with passion and love for this girl, this woman, and he was losing control.

Charlie reached down to touch her face, and sat up to kiss her when she pulled away. While his mouth worked on the sensitive spot on her neck, he massaged her breasts, trying to make this night last as long as possible. He pressed her back against the bed and slid his pants off, hovering over her again. He let his tongue dance over each of her brown nipples before kissing farther down. He slowly unbuttoned her jeans, pulling them and her black panties over her feet. He sat up and parted her knees with his hands. A look of panic shot across her face, but she quickly hid it. It didn't go unnoticed by Charlie.

"Are you okay? I'm not going to walk away from you if you don't want to do this tonight," Charlie said, lying next to her and caressing her face.

"I'm okay. It's just, well, it's been a while. And I've really only been with two men. One of them when I was in fifth year, and the other after Dumbledore died. That one was just for comfort really, and we never spoke again. I just…I'm afraid. You're so exp…"

"Shhh Cho. This is not just about sex for me. There's more here. I think you feel it too. We're onto something big. I'm not going to let you go, and I don't know if I ever will. Don't you dare worry about something like that," Charlie said, running his hand down her back and cupping her bum. Cho smiled and kissed him again.

Charlie turned her over and her legs parted at the encouragement of his hand on her thigh. He let his hand press against her center and could feel the heat radiate from her as she arched her hips. He slipped a finger inside and she cried out in a mixture of surprise and pleasure. Her walls were tight around him, so he slipped in another finger and let his thumb circle the nub of nerves above. He continued until she began to shake, her body more relaxed.

"Charlie, please," she said, her legs wrapping around him.

He pressed into her slowly, trying to savor every moment of this new feeling. His body quaked and his heart raced with the ache to go faster, but he fought it, and began moving slowly. Her moans were like music, and every time she whispered his name, he let it ring throughout him.

With one cry, her walls clenched around him and Charlie could feel himself slipping.

"Let go, Charlie," Cho said, opening her eyes and meeting his. He came, calling out her name as she shook and tightened beneath him. He never took his eyes of hers, even when hers closed and her head rolled back in pleasure. He let his face rest in the crook of her neck until they calmed.

He rolled off her and she grabbed her wand. She summoned and blanket and curled up under his arm, a serene smile playing across her delicate features. He kissed her forehead and Charlie Weasley knew this was the beginning of something amazing.

(((((((((((((((((((((())))))))))))))))((((((((((((((((((())))))))))

Hermione's eyes creaked open, and fear gripped her as she was met by darkness. A moment of panic made her worried it had all been a dream; that she was still in that horrible cell. But she also felt warm and the air smelled fresh and comforting. The pain in her head was dull and barely noticeable. She curled her fingers around the puffy down covering that was tucked under her neck as she wiggled her feet to find they were free and donned a soft pair of socks.

There was a weight across her abdomen and her right arm was engulfed in a natural heat more heavy than the rest of her body. A tingling breeze brushed against her neck every few seconds while something tickled her ear. A resounding snore convinced Hermione it wasn't Crookshanks, and a smiled cracked her dry lips. She hissed a little at the pain.

She turned her head and saw Ron's mouth in line with her eyes. His lips were parted and air was rushing between them, a beautiful sound for Hermione after so many hours of torment. She turned her nose up to breath in his breath, to feel his life and hers, and to affirm she wasn't dreaming. Her hand snaked down to touch his across her middle. He shifted slightly in his sleep.

"Hermione. I'll get you out. He won't hurt you," Ron groaned, his hold on her tightening. "I'm so sorry," he said, burying his face in her hair and continuing to grip her tightly.

"Ron, shhh. I'm okay. I'm safe. It's over," Hermione cooed, her voice straining after being left unused for so long. She cupped his cheek in her hand and ran her thumb under his eyes to calm him. Ron's body jerked and his eyes shot open to instantly meet hers.

"You're awake!" Ron said, sitting up frantically. "Are you okay? How's your head?" He touched her forehead, his breathing quickening. He had his hand on his head to compare to hers. "What about your arm?" he asked, picking up the limb that had been dislocated.

"Ron. I'm okay. It's okay," she whispered. He had her hand in his, and his fingers traced the outline of the scars left by her shackles.

To Hermione's surprise, tears formed in her eyes when his diamond blue eyes met hers in the darkness. His eyes were welling, and she held back a sob. He pressed her hand against his cheek and took a deep breath, his cries swallowed and suppressed deep in his chest.

"I almost lost you. Even when I found you…he was…you were…" he cried, still holding her hand firmly against his cheek.

Hermione sat up slowly, her muscles tight and uncooperative, and he pressed his forehead to hers. His fingertips brushed tears away from her cheeks and he kissed the skin in their wake.

"You found me. You got me out of there. You're my hero," she croaked, reveling in the feeling of his large, warm hands on her face. He hung his head at her last words.

"You are! You didn't stop looking for me. You sent your Patronus to comfort me, and you haven't left my side. It's always you in my head, getting me through," she said, laying her head on his shoulder.

"You're my hero too," he whispered, placing his hands on either side of her face and kissing her softly, his lips barely brushing across hers.

"I love you," he said, his eyes boring deeply into her own.

"I love you so much, Ron, I can scarcely remember when I didn't in some way," she answered, more tears threatening to fall. She kissed him with every word that lingered in her chest, every minute she was away from him, and with every inch of her soul. Pressed against his chest where she needed to be, she was finally home.


	8. Love Me With an Open Heart

_Love me with an open heart tell me anything_

We can find a place to start to gamble everything

We can set this thing apart, cos we're gonna, gonna

Gamble everything for love

Ginny couldn't sleep. She wouldn't sleep, until Hermione woke up…until she could see Hermione's eyes and hear her voice. Ginny sat with Harry on the Grangers' settee and leafed through a stack of dental magazines that sat atop the coffee table. Distracted by Hermione's situation, she wasn't really paying attention to what she was looking at. Harry flipped idly through the channels on the Telly, dozing off every now and again only to wake up abruptly. Ginny vowed to wait all day and night if she had to, not wanting to miss the moment when Hermione fully returned to them. The Grangers had long since gone to sleep, or at least retired to their bedroom; Ginny could still hear their hushed voices behind the door.

Suddenly, Harry's head popped up as he grabbed his wand. He looked about frenetically before calming down quickly.

"Just another jolt. I swear I'm hearing things," he laughed, running his hand through his already disheveled hair.

Just then, Ginny heard it too; a soft rustle of voices and a light creaking of a bed. Her eyes met Harry's as their faces broke out in identical grins.

"Hermione!" Ginny exclaimed, leaping up and heading toward the stairs. She rushed up the steps as fast as she could, hearing Harry's quick footsteps behind her.

She stopped at the door as she heard Ron's voice. She placed a hand firmly over Harry's just as he grabbed the doorknob, stopping him from barging in. When it seemed quiet again, she quietly rapped on the light oak door. There was a soft moan followed by heavy footsteps. Ron opened the door, and Ginny was struck by how red and puffy his eyes were. She reached out to him on instinct.

"S'alright. I'm fine," Ron said.

"Is Hermione okay? We heard voices," Harry said.

"I'm okay, Harry," came her rough, strangled voice as Ron rushed back to the bed.

"Shhh, love, don't strain your voice," Ron said, putting an arm around her shoulders.

A calmness entered Ginny that she hadn't felt since the day before Nagini attacked her father. Seeing her brother hold her best friend had seemed to break open something in her, and Ginny finally felt like everything could be alright for once.

"Aguamenti!" Ginny whispered, directing her wand to an empty glass on Hermione's desk. She carefully brought it over, and Hermione mouthed a 'Thank You' as Ron's hand ran comforting circles over her back. Harry stood, frozen, gripping the post of Hermione's bed so tightly that his knuckles were white.

"Harry, mate, is everything okay?" Ron asked cautiously, but Ginny knew everything that was racing through his mind. She knew his heart too well after all this time. Anger, guilt and relief twisted around him, and he had no outlet for any of it.

Ginny longed to reach out and hold him, to comfort the bevy of emotions flowing out of him and give his heart somewhere to rest. But something stopped her, and had been stopping her since they had chosen to make love despite all of that uncertainty surrounding the search for Hermione. She felt she didn't deserve him until she could earn Hermione's friendship back. Now she was torn between her own irrational feelings and her need to comfort Harry.

"Is it ever going to end?" Harry asked through gritted teeth. "You've already been through so much." He looked forlornly at Hermione's injuries.

Everyone seemed to move to speak at the same time when the door opened again and Hermione's mother cried out and ran to her.

"Mom…" She whispered, leaning into her mother's embrace. Ron got up slowly so her father could have a place on the other side of Hermione. The small family simply held each other and rocked for a few sweet moments while Ron stared quizzically at Harry. Harry just shook his head and averted his eyes from Ron's.

"How are you feeling?" Hermione's father asked, putting a hand on her cheek.

"I'm okay. My muscles are really sore though. It hurts to move," she said, her voice becoming slightly clearer.

"I'll get a hold of Charlie and Cho, see if they have a potion or something," Harry said, retreating quickly from the room without so much as a backwards glance.

"In the meantime, why don't you take a nice hot bath?" Hermione's mom asked softly, getting up and starting the tap in the adjoining bathroom before Hermione could respond.

"It does sound really good," she sighed, trying desperately to follow her mother, but suddenly giving up as she yelped in pain.

Ron rushed forward and scooped Hermione up effortlessly. She met his eyes as her arm draped over his shoulder, then smiled slightly, and tucked her head into the protective crook of his neck. Ginny looked over at Dr. Granger, who seemed slightly uncomfortable although he was clearly not angry.

Ginny followed Ron and Hermione into the bathroom, anticipating that she might be needed. After Ron sat Hermione on the lid of the toilet and closed the door, Hermione cast a spell removing her clothing. She tried to rise, but she found her legs wobbly.

"Oh this is embarrassing," she whispered. Ginny turned as Hermione grabbed a towel and draped it over herself. "I think I need some help into the tub."

Before Dr. Granger could move to help her daughter, Ginny said "Wingardium Leviosa" and carefully moved Hermione the short distance to the tub. Hermione quickly swiped her wand over the water to created miniature mountains of bubbles.

"Magic still floors me sometimes," Dr. Granger smiled and exited the room. Ginny went to follow.

"Ginny, could you stay? I need to talk to you," Hermione said softly.

Ginny sat on the stool near the vanity mirror and watched Hermione as she closed her eyes and sank lower into the bubbles, her bruises and wounds disappearing into the pink water.

"I'm sorry Ginny, it's just that I really don't want to be alone right now," Hermione said, looking worried.

"That's okay, just don't ask me to wash your bony feet," Ginny answered, earning a splash of water. "Seriously though, how are you feeling?"

"Honestly, I'm mostly grateful. I'm just glad to be alive. This whole thing has made me a bit more anxious, like I'm in a dream. I'm afraid they'll come after me, or I'll wake up and still be there, cold…hurt…scared," she said, seeming to shrink in the bubbles.

Ginny could feel tears coming to her eyes. She desperately hoped that Hermione would feel safe again and that she would be okay.

Hermione pulled the ends of her hair out of the water, her lips shaking. "But I'd rather not talk about it just yet. What is going on with you and Harry?" Hermione asked.

Ginny mused that if she hadn't been in the water, her hands may have been on her hips.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Ginny insisted, fiddling with a non-existent thread on her jeans.

"Oh come off it! You were looking at him like you wanted to say something important, and he was avoiding everyone's eyes," she said pointedly.

"You know, just one of his moods," Ginny replied flippantly, also not meeting Hermione's eyes.

"No, I don't know. I learned a lot about Harry this year, and that dark look in his eyes usually means a storm is raging in his head," Hermione said, her voice quieting in concern. "Something happened between you two, it's written all over your faces."

Ginny could feel her jaw tighten and her facial muscles stung as she fought her body's impulse to cry at all the emotions dancing in her chest. Her eyes were closing, filling with tears. Finally, she let out a small sob that she tried to push back in with a hand over her mouth.

"Oh Ginny!" Hermione exclaimed as Ginny heard a rush of water. Hermione was attempting to get out of the tub to comfort Ginny.

"No, Hermione! Stay there. I'm fine," Ginny said, feeling even guiltier…if that was possible. She took some tissue and dabbed at her eyes in an attempt to look less tragic. "These are my silly issues. After all you've been through, we don't need to even broach this."

"Stop deflecting. You and Harry are my closest friends and I love you both. And this…" Hermione paused and it looked to Ginny as if she was trying to fight back her own tears. "This makes me feel normal. I want to feel normal…real."

"Then you don't want to hear this," Ginny stated, looking sadly at her friend's broken body.

"Did I do something?" Hermione said, genuinely worried.

"Harry and I…we had…we made," Ginny stumbled over her words.

"Ginny, that has the potential to be such a beautiful experience. What went wrong?" She said, now leaning over the edge of the tub to face Ginny.

"Nothing. It felt amazing and he had almost died…again. I needed him. I needed to know he was alive, real and actually next to me. I needed to know we could make it," Ginny said loudly, stumbling over her words yet again. Thoughts fell out of her mouth as quickly and unwelcome as her tears.

"I know how you feel," Hermione said, pulling her wet, bruised knees up to her chin. "But surely this strengthened your relationship or at least your security in it?" Hermione said, looking apprehensive.

"Hermione, can you think of when we could have made love?" Ginny whispered, clenching her jaw and staring out of the tiny bathroom window.

There was a long and painful silence. Ginny's arms ached to clasp Hermione's hands and beg her forgiveness, but she couldn't move for fear something inside her would break. But before either could say a word, a light knock snapped both of their attention.

"Hermione, I have your potion," Harry said from the other side of the door.

"I'm covered, so you can come in," she said, her voice almost completely back to normal.

Harry walked in slowly, bright blue liquid in his hand, and his glasses immediately fogged up. He took them off, as they were useless in the steam-filled room. He stumbled slightly as he handed Hermione the potion, and Ginny reached out and guided him to a seat.

"I didn't even see you, Gin," he said, squinting to study her face. "Are you alright?" He asked, eyes bouncing back and forth between her and Hermione.

"Ginny, you have nothing to be sorry for. Yes, by practical standards and social norms it was a bit selfish," Hermione paused, clearing her throat. "But I would have done the exact same thing," she whispered, her gaze far off.

"No. _You _wouldn't have, and that's the point!" Harry suddenly shouted, rising up in the steam. "When Ron left, you were in pain, the worst pain I have ever seen you in, but you didn't give up. If you hadn't followed me up those stairs at Bagshot's, everything could be totally different right now. You had a choice, you stuck by me, and I didn't give you the same courtesy when I was given the chance."

Hermione was quiet for a moment while Ginny held her breath, waiting for a lecture…for anything to end the passing of silent seconds.

"When Ron left, I wanted to go with him. To sleep next to him in a warm bed and just enjoy that we were alive…" Hermione said solemnly.

"But you didn't," Harry started through clenched teeth.

"My point is: we're all weak. We all have moments when our hearts overpower our heads and even our souls," Hermione's voice began to quake in a new way. "When he came back…I wanted so much to grab him and never let go, and I hated both myself and him for feeling that way…as you could tell by my reaction. But after Bellatrix, well…after that…I never kept an eye off him, and I clung to him whenever I could. It's a desperate feeling, coming so close to loss," Hermione said, openly crying. "I can't say I would have been so rash, but I'm not like you two," she said, sobbing into her bubbles.

Ginny felt Harry's hand close over hers.

Another light sniff was heard through the steam in the doorway, and Ron's hair appeared in the fog.

"Oh, 'Mione. I'm so sorry I left," he said, although the gravity and emotion of the moment was weakened by how comical he looked with one hand pressed over his eyes while his other struggled to find the edge of the tub.

"I'm covered, Ron," she said, laughter now shaking her voice. "I'm a bit soggy and feel much better.," she said, unplugging the drain while Harry tossed her his cloak (he was still in the habit of keeping it on him.)

When Hermione appeared again, she was dressed in a new pair of pajamas and drying her hair. Ron didn't take his eyes off of her.

Ginny grabbed Harry's hand and led him out of the bathroom undetected.

* * *

Ron watched in a slight daze as Hermione vigorously toweled off her hair. The bruises on her arms had almost faded, but some light scars still dotted places on her body. Ron remembered how he found he. In fact, he scarcely thought of anything else, and wondered if her legs and abdomen already looked as fully healed. She could walk, though still with a slight limp, and she hung her towel on a polished metal rack.

She caught him staring and met his eyes. He let go of any fears he had and allowed his impulses to guide his hand to her cheek. She leaned into him and closed her eyes.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, anxious that she might still be in pain but managing to hide it well.

"I feel much better," she said, and smiled in a way that didn't reach her eyes. Ron's heart sank, but his expectations weren't dashed, he knew it would be a while before she could be okay. Ron folded his arms around her and ran his hands in circles over her back.

"What about you?" she asked, pulling away to look at him. "Are you alright?"

"Me?" he laughed slightly. "I'm not the one who was hurt."

"We never got a chance to talk about what happened that night at the pub," she started, looking concerned. Her concern hurt Ron. He felt like he wasn't being good to her, wasn't' taking care of her right, and that's why her mind was on that night in the pub.

"That's nothing…it's not important," he said, trying to move out of the now stifling enclosure of the small bathroom.

"You nearly killed someone for spilling whiskey on me," she said softly.

"And you nearly got killed!" Ron yelled, self-hatred rising up again.

"I want to know, Ron. I want to know what's inside of you! Yes I nearly died, but it gave me a chance to prioritize. I don't want to miss a single piece of you," she said, fresh tears in her eyes.

Ron immediately rushed forward to brush her tears away, but Hermione turned from him. He had a choice: to take the risk and tell her everything, or to keep her safe from the dark clouds in his mind. He saw her sitting on her bed, her hands on her face, trying to suppress tears. She bared herself for him, and he had known her darkest moments. It was time for him to share it with her.

"You screamed," he choked.

"What?"

"When that bloke spilled his drinks on you, you screamed," Ron said, fighting with himself to let the words out.

Hermione had a knowing look on her face, as though her suspicions had been correct, but she urged him to go on. He didn't want her to know about which moment plagued his nightmares, which one ate at him every time he saw her face, and which one he'd never forgive himself for. She didn't deserve to relive that…no one did. But she was looking at him anxiously, like her whole world depended on him letting her in, and he couldn't deny her anything…not ever again.

"I have nightmares. I'm pounding against the stone, I can't get out, and you're screaming. That bitch is shouting curses at you and you're still screaming. She is killing you!" Ron exclaimed. He could feel his body shake under the weight of his worst memory.

He felt Hermione stiffen at the mention of that night. He wrapped his hand around hers, both to apologize for bringing it up, and to show her that it would be okay.

"Ron, it's okay now. I'm okay and I'm going to stay by your side," she said, her voice catching in her throat.

"Is it? I was almost too late again. I can't lose you, and I can't bear seeing you hurt." He said, pleading with himself and the universe to let him keep it together.

"But you weren't too late, and we're here together now. When I heard you yelling for me, I was strong enough to keep going just so I would be able to see you again. And when I was in that cell and heard you were alive, it gave me the resolve to go on. Your patronus! It kept Runcorn out of my head. Isn't that enough?" she said, leaning her head on Ron's shoulder.

"No. I want to know you're okay. I want to be able to look at you and know I'll see you again tomorrow. That uncertainty still haunts me," Ron said, not even caring anymore that he was telling her everything. It just felt good to see her eyes and know she understood.

"Id' do anything to be certain too," she whispered, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

Ron leaned forward and kissed her softly, trying to express his feelings with his kiss, since they were failing in his throat. He heard her breath catch and in the next second, she was kissing him so deeply their teeth knocked together.

Her body pressed him against the bed as her tongue fought it's way into his mouth. A jolt of electricity shot through Ron causing him to moan loudly. He'd wanted this for so long, and now she was straddling him with her hands fisted in his shirt. Ron didn't understand how she could go from so downtrodden and hurt to eager so quickly, but his mind fogged over as her hands struggled desperately with the button on his jeans.

He reached out to touch her hair, to let his fingers drown in her wild curls. But Hermione pulled her head away, dipping down to kiss along his neck, and Ron again stifled a moan, as his erection grew even more pronounced and painful. He had to struggle to keep from thrusting up toward her wiggling hips. He placed his hands on her thighs, rubbing them up and down her firm, slender legs. However, her hands covered his and removed them from her body, pinning them down over his head.

He looked at her face with a mixture of shock and arousal as she ground her body against his. Her eyes were dark and her jaw set in an angry determination. He wrapped his hand around her cheek, but she again moved away. When he went to protest his words turned into a sudden moan as her hand found his erection through is trousers.

Hermione reached her hand under his drawers and wrapped her slender fingers around his throbbing cock.

"Fuck! Hermione!" Ron murmured, his mind spinning in circles. Her hands felt exquisite and he longed to feel her in the same way. He reached his hand out to cup her bum, but she pulled I away from her. He was starting to feel awful for loving what she was doing, but hating the circumstances. She was pulling away from him, something was wrong, but he just couldn't let his mind settle on anything at the moment. As her finger danced across the top of his head, Ron yelled out. He worried that if he didn't stop that second, he might never stop, and he had to touch her and savor her.

"Hermione, stop," he moaned, angry with himself as he did so. She looked up at him, her nostrils flaring and her face red. Ron wondered why she looked so mad.

"Come here love," he said, sitting up and putting an arm around her to scoot her closer to him. She winced when he touched her. "Oh, are you still hurt?" Ron asked, sitting up all the way so he could examine her wounds a little more, but she shook her head.

"Hermione?" Ron said, beginning to catch on. "Why wont' you let me touch you?" Ron was hurt and very worried. He was afraid she blamed him for what happened to her, and that now his affection might repulse her.

All of a sudden, tears started falling from her eyes and she buried her head in her hands. Ron decided to ignore his current worries and put a tentative arm around her. Thankfully, she leaned into him in response, encouraging him to pull her closer still.

"You didn't do anything, Ron. It's me. I just want all of this to be over and behind us. I'm scared because one Death Eater or another seems to intervene every time we're together. I'm terrified that one of them will try to ruin every romantic moment I have in the future – just like Runcorn almost…he just…" she sputtered unable to finish her thought. "So when you were telling me how you felt, I just wanted to get him out of my head and my soul no matter what. He almost took something that I have been saving for you," she whispered, an apprehensive and fearful gaze meeting his eyes.

Rage coursed through Ron as he remembered Hermione, nearly naked, with that horrid Death Eater leering over her. He did everything he could to swallow his rage and let Hermione sob her heart out on his shoulder. He desperately wanted her to feel safe…and, perhaps at some time in the future, happy.

"So when you were here, holding me, I desperately wanted to get better -- to be able to be with you. But everything felt wrong. I tried to hard to get that cell, that face, and those hands out of my head. But every time you touched me, all I could feel was him. It was like I was still in his chains," she sobbed, her voice cracking from the awful stress and ever-present tears of the last twenty-four hours.

Ron removed his hand from her shoulder with a powerful jerk, fearful that his touch would be nothing but another form of torture for her. He couldn't stand to see her suffering, but it was even worse to know that he was causing it.

Hermione jumped when Ron's arm pulled away. "Please," was all she whispered.

"I don't want you to feel that way. I don't want to hurt you," Ron answered, reading the desperation in her eyes.

"Ron, I love you and I don't want this to happen. I can't allow Runcorn to break me like this," she said, her hands clutched in her lap. "That's why I started kissing you in the first place. It felt like fighting back. But that's not fair. It shouldn't be like this."

"It's okay, love, we'll work this out. In fact, I have a few ideas," he said, pulling her close despite her involuntary cringe. He knew that they were both strong and that they could work things out as long as they had each other.

* * *

"Could we go somewhere to talk?" Harry asked Ginny, pulling her out of her daze of reflection.

Ginny just nodded, unable to really find all of the words she wanted to say to him. He took her hand, and Apparated them away.

They landed with a soft 'crack' in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. Ginny put on her best mask, and hid the anxious anticipation behind a face filled with skepticism. She quirked her eyebrow and looked at Harry, waiting for him to say something.

But Harry didn't say a word, instead pulling her close to him and pressing his lips to hers. His kiss was urgent, and his breathing so rushed, that Ginny became caught up. She let her tongue dance on his lips until he opened his mouth. His hands roamed over her body frantically, his heart pounding against her own chest. They stumbled backwards until they hit a wall.

Harry pulled back, calming himself down. He nuzzled her neck, kissing her much more carefully. Ginny wasn't fooled, as his shoulders were still tense where she gripped them, his body quivering, and his erection already pressing against her.

"I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I can't go that long without touching you, not ever again," he moaned, his hand reaching up her shirt, as his breath glided across her neck. "Forgive me, Ginny

"Don't shut me out again. Just let me in. I can't be left so far away from your heart again," Ginny said, thrusting her hips against his.

He moaned softly.

"Never again. I love you. I love you so much. I can't be away from you, even for a day," he said, pulling her shirt over her head. His warm lips quickly found their way back to her flesh, as he slid the straps of her bra down to kiss and nip at her shoulders.

She dug her hands deeply into his hard back, gaining enough leverage to thrust up against him again.

His hands firmly cupped her breasts, and he kissed the rounded tops of each one, taking the time to breathe her in there. His green eyes were so bright, that Ginny thought they were going to light up the whole room. His breath felt so hot. It was like he was burning for her. She gripped his shirt and he kissed down her abdomen. She was beginning to be so overcome, she couldn't figure out how to get him shirtless fast enough. Finally, she just tore through his tee shirt, leaving it in shreds.

Harry let out a rough growl, feverishly trying to get the buttons undone on her jeans. Eventually he had her completely naked, and his hands were moving slowly up and down her body. Ginny was relieving Harry of the rest of his clothes when he started kissing her lips softly, and she savored his taste on her mouth.

"I want you so badly, Ginny. I want you right now." He murmured, his thumbs gliding across her nipples.

"Get on with it then, Potter!" she groaned, letting her went cunt slide along his body. He slid two fingers into her, and she cried out, the electricity moving through her threatening to already turn her straining limbs to jelly. He kept her pressed against the wall, his fingers moving in and out of her, and his thumb caressing her clit until she cried out for more. Ginny wanted him to fill her so badly she thought she might fall to pieces if she didn't have him.

"Gin, love…are you…is everything…." He panted, his mouth open against the pulse point on her neck. Ginny knew that he was making sure he wouldn't hurt her this time. She was so wet and wanted him so bad, it wasn't going to be an issue. She ground against him harder, causing the tip of his penis to slide along her lips. Harry moaned loudly, grabbed her hips, and lifted her, startling Ginny in a wonderful way.

As soon as her bottom hit the table, and she was holding her body up on her elbows, Harry thrust into her. He was much harder this time, and she loved it. She let her legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer to her, and he groaned with delight. She couldn't thrust up into him, as his hips were holding her down to the table, and her body's strength was focused on holding herself upright so she could watch his beautiful face. Because of this, Harry was able to grip her hips and fuck her by every definition. His pace was hard and fast, and Ginny's breathing and heartbeat barely kept up with his rushed motions. She felt so desired, so dirty, so sexy, that she was finding herself already close to coming.

"Harry!" she called out, unable to think of any other words but his name, which was floating across her mind and taking over all of her senses. He leaned his body in, pressing his abdomen against her clit. Whether intentional or not, it punctuated her orgasm perfectly, and soon she was clenching tightly around his cock, and he was gripping her hips.

"Fuck" he groaned, spilling into her. He leaned in close to her, his body shaking, and kissed her softly. When he pulled back, Ginny marveled at the beauty of his sweat-shined face, his sated eyes, and his reddened lips. He pulled slowly out of her and dropped somewhat gracefully to the floor. Ginny sat quickly up to see what happened.

Harry was lying flat on his back on the floor, his glasses askew, his hair even messier than usual, and his hands spread above his head. He had the biggest grin Ginny had ever seen splayed across his face, showing almost ever tooth. She smiled back, and then couldn't help but let out a little giggle. Harry laughed in answer, and soon she was on the floor next to him, laughing uncontrollably between happy kisses and playful caresses.


	9. Tell Me do you Lose Your Way Each Day

Cho woke to the strong, hot fragrance of bacon wafting through her small flat. She smiled at the view when she sat up: Charlie Weasley shirtless, with dragon wings tattooed across his back, dancing and whistling as he tended to various pots and pans. Her grandmother's lotus print apron was tied around his bare waist. He looked more edible than any breakfast he could be preparing. He turned around with a big grin on his face.

"Pull up a seat, Chang! You need a good restorative meal after expending all of that energy last night," he winked and flipped something in the frying pan. Cho walked over to her little table and sat down. There was a carafe of orange juice, a bottle of milk, two place settings, and the Daily Prophet waiting for her. There was also a tray of cucumbers, tomatoes, and some white, crumbling substance. Cho grabbed a cucumber and let the cool particles glide down her throat. She really was quite famished.

"So what is all this then?" Cho smiled, turning in her chair.

"This, my dear, is Charlie Weasley's Eastern Western Breakfast of Champions," he said with another wink and a flourish, planting a pan of beans and a plate of toast on the table. He went back for the bacon and sat down across from her.

"Here, you have a good Romanian breakfast, with feta cheese, cucumbers, and tomatoes. But I also need an English Full Breakfast every now and then, so I added some classics," he said in between taking bites of cheese.

"And how did all of this make it into my house this morning?" Cho smiled, taking a spoonful of beans and spreading it on her toast.

"What can I say? I'm an early riser. It's the least I can do," he said proudly.

"Apparently I'm a breakfast whore," Cho quipped sarcastically, shocked by her own cheek.

"The only kind I like," he said, taking two strips of bacon.

Cho's happiness was indescribable. She hoped she and Charlie could have many more mornings like this. She skimmed through the paper and took another cucumber.

"Oh wow, Penelope Clearwater is married, to some bloke in your year," Cho said with mild interest.

"Blimey! My whole year is being married off," Charlie said with amazement. Cho felt a blush creep to her cheeks. She wasn't ready for this conversation, but it seemed as though now was the time. She attempted to stifle the pink color in her cheeks before facing the topic.

"Well, I won't be married off," Cho said quietly.

"Why? Any bloke'd be lucky to have you?" Charlie said, indignant.

Cho could feel her throat clench and her cheeks burn all the way to her neck, but she had been trying to be more confident in her own decisions, and this morning would be no exception.

"Well, I don't ever plan on marrying. I do not see why one must. I can live with someone without a piece of paper, and I want to keep my life my own. I'm working so hard. I don't plan on children, so I see no real benefit in marriage over co-habitation," she said, trying to force her eyes to look at him instead of her feet. When she cautiously met his eyes, he was smiling at her in the same way he had all morning.

"I knew there was a reason I was so drawn to you. I was wondering how this could ever last, since we're both married to our jobs, and you answered my question beautifully. I can live on the reserve and you can have a flat of your own. And we'll see each other when he can," he said, lifting his juice glass to hers. She felt relief, but only for a moment. "But…"

"But what?" she asked quietly.

"I want to be the only one," he said, kneeling in front of her and clasping her hands. "You're amazing, I'm falling for you, and I don't want to share.

Cho leaned forward until she was straddling his lap on the floor. "Sounds like a plan."

Before they could even deepen their kiss, there was a knock on her door. Cho answered it cautiously, only to find Percy standing there, the Ministry pin glinting on his robes.

"Hey Perce! What's going on?" Charlie said, clapping him on the back.

"Uh…Charlie? What are you…never mind, I would rather not know," Percy said, straightening his robes again.

Ms. Chang, Runcorn is claming sole responsibility for the act, saying that he and his accomplices hadn't been working with Lestrange, that he was in the wrong place at the wrong time," Percy said, the tips of his ears getting red.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Charlie yelled. "We saw him running away from the scene!"

"It's absurd, I know, but we must respect the system. Kingsley needs official statements from Ron and Hermione, but he would like to make sure Hermione is in a condition to do so first," Percy said carefully, his fists clenching in his quiet way of expressing anger. "She's been through so much…I can't believe…" Percy added, shaking his head.

"I'll go over there to check on her and I'll tell her what she needs to do," Cho said, solemnly.

Percy handed her the information she needed for Hermione and Ron.

Charlie accompanied Cho as they were invited into the Grangers' home only moments later. Mr. and Mrs. Granger stayed in the kitchen so Cho and Charlie could visit with Hermione.

"Where's Ron?" Charlie asked.

Hermione looked up from her book and said he had gone to the Burrow to shower. Charlie took Ron's paperwork and Apparated home, leaving Cho to face Hermione.

"I just need to check that you are well enough to travel and to go through with this," Cho said softly.

Hermione simply nodded and sat up straighter. Cho ran a scan over her and found that she was healing well, almost completely restored.

"You're fine, but how do you feel?" Cho asked.

"Much better, though just a little anxious and frightened still," she answered honestly.

"Well then, I'll leave it up to you. You can submit a statement or let them build a case without you, just don't force yourself," Cho said, smiling and handing her some sleeping potion for later in the night.

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Ron Weasley got out of the shower feeling renewed, and like a fog of sorts had been lifted. He toweled off his hair, shaved his face, and vigorously scrubbed his teeth. He put on a new pair of jeans and an old black tee. Clean clothes felt good against his skin, and the cascading of air against his moist flesh quickly subsided to the warmth of fresh clothing.

The haze of anger that clouded Ron's every thought was clearing rapidly. He felt hopeful and a little excited to see Hermione slowly improving. He felt like he could see that spark in her again as she worked hard to make herself better. She was sitting closer to him, letting him touch her more frequently, and even devouring books that lined the massive shelves in her bedroom. His arms still longed to hold her closely to him, but at least now things didn't seem so dire.

The dark thoughts of murder and revenge seemed to move to the back of Ron's mind, being replaced by optimism that Hermione would be whole again someday, and he hoped that he'd be by her side to see it.

Ron heard Charlie call to him from over in the sitting room, and he grew immediately concerned again. His older brother never drops by the Burrow during the day, especially when we should be back in Romania. Ron let his mind wander to different worst-case scenarios as he ran the five flights down to greet him.

"Charlie?" Ron said, panicked when he saw the look in his brother's eyes. Charlie was looking at him like he may explode at any second.

"Listen, there have been some problems in the case against Lestrange. Runcorn is claiming that Lestrange had nothing to do with it. There is no point in trying veritaserum or legilimency. He and Runcorn are too strong. So the Minsitry's legal staff will need statements from you and Hermione," Charlie said, meeting Ron's eyes very slowly.

Something did go off in Ron, and the haze of anger flooded his head again. His face got hot, and then his blood ran cold. How could anyone risk her recovery for the case? Why would anyone expect that of her? And why didn't anyone just fucking_ kill_ Lestrange? Ron was ready to do it himself, and clenched his fists so tightly it was a miracle that he didn't break his own fingers.

"Bastards. How could they?" Ron groaned. "They'll have their fucking case when I kill him and Runcorn."

"Not wise," Charlie said calmly.

"And neither is it wise to make a victim of a brutal act relive even a single minute of it," Ron yelled through clenched teeth. "If you use enough veritaserum, no one can fight it! Can't they just dump an entire pint down the fucker's throat?"

"You know that much is lethal," Charlie said, obviously struggling to stay calm in the face of Ron's growing rage.

"So? They deserve to die for what they did! The whole lot of them deserve to die for the years of pain and the trail of bodies they left behind. If they don't die, it'll never end." He said, his legs burning with need to just run to Hermione...to take it all away.

"Then we're the same as them. If we kill the lot, we're just like them," Charlie said weakly. Ron eyed the door and Charlie reached out to keep him close.

Ron rushed past Charlie out the door and apparated to Hermione before his brother could even finish his plea to stop.

When he got to the immaculately manicured lawn, Ron rushed across it and let himself into the Granger's home without even a knock. Hermione was sitting with Cho, reading over her summons, her hands shaking so badly that the paper quivered between her fingers.

"No!" He shouted, causing Hermione and Cho to jump. "You don't have to do this, Hermione. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do," he said, his own vocal chords straining to hold back his own anger and fear. She just looked so scared at the prospect of releasing a statement. He swore he couldn't have her feeling that way anymore, not if he had the power to stop it.

They had come so far in just the last day, and Ron didn't want to risk anything that could set her back. She had managed to walk around the park near her house, allowing herself to meet the eyes of strangers without being too afraid. She wasn't jumping when his hand found her back or clasped her hand in his. He didn't want to lose even an inch of the progress she had made, not even to put away the men who did this. The prospect of just killing them himself was getting more and more real.

"Ron, I need to do this. He deserves to pay," Hermione said, determination in her eyes. It hit Ron then: this wasn't his decision. His murderous rage wasn't going to help anything. His insistence and constant efforts to keep her safe wouldn't help her now. He just had to let her do what she needed to do. He took a few deep breaths before meeting her eyes.

"If you're sure, I'll go with you. I have to give a statement too. Sodding lot of good it will do; I was knocked out like an oaf," he said, sitting next to her.

She leaned her head on his shoulder for a brief moment before getting up to get ready. Cho offered to fetch a calming draught and meet them at the Ministry just in case.

Ron sat quietly on the couch, calming himself as he waited for Hermione.

"She's strong, you know that," Nick Granger said, coming in from the kitchen with two cups of tea. ]

"Tell me about it. I've got the scars to prove it," Ron said, grinning.

Mr. Granger laughed jovially. "Even when she was just a tiny thing, she wanted to do everything herself. Her mother jokes that her first words were 'let me do it', but I'm sure it was 'daddy'. However, Hermione would always come back to hold my hand once she had her latest quest figured out," he said, looking far off.

Ron smiled at the thought of Hermione as a toddling little girl. She was probably brilliant, even then. And Ron imagined her with eyes and skin not marred by tragedy and war, but instead possessing that bright hopeful gaze which often haunted Ron in his most recent dreams.

"My point is, she's a hard one to figure out, but once you've got it, you'll never lose it. It's obvious that you've got it, Ron. Just be ready to let her go when you have to, but always keep your hand out to her," Nick finished, putting a hand on his shoulder and rising when Hermione came back.

"Okay, here goes," she said apprehensively, looking quite shaky on her feet. Ron walked over, took her arm, and they Apparated to the Ministry entrance immediately.

Percy was going to record Ron's statement, which was a relief, as he already knew most of the story anyway. Kingsley would question Hermione; Ron was glad to have a trustworthy friend in an authoritative position. Hermione could be less anxious that way. Kingsley may have been a friend, but he was also a trusted leader, and Ron knew that Hermione would find ease and comfort in his professionalism. Cho arrived and waited outside the door.

Ron got through his story without incident, grateful that Percy was such a stickler for propriety that he didn't even look at Ron differently. Ron came out only slightly loathing himself. Percy let his hand linger on Ron's back, however, before he scuttled along to deliver the report.

Ron's eyes were fixed on the other office door, so he saw the handle slowly turn before Hermione walked out. Her steps were timid and she was clutching her abdomen. When she met Ron's eyes, she broke down, falling to the floor. He rushed to her, but fell back when he noticed Cho was kneeling in front of Hermione.

After Cho gave her a claming draught and made sure she wasn't hurt, Ron sat beside her, his arm pressed up against hers. He took her hand in his and kissed it lightly while she continued to shake.

After a few moments, Hermione stood back up unsteadily. Ron ached to engulf her in his arms, but he didn't want to unsettle her.

Kingsley came out of his office with a sealed envelope ready for delivery.  
"Thank you, Miss Granger. That was very courageous," he said thoughtfully. "And thank you, Ms. Chang. Your supervisors are going to hear from me. I think you've been an apprentice long enough."

Cho smiled, hugged Hermione and Ron, and excused herself, telling them she planned to take the Floo Network back to her flat.

"Ready to go home, love?" He asked. He wasn't sure she was even ready to move after the trauma she had been through, but Ron thought it might ease her mind to know she had somewhere safe to go to.

"Yes, I'm quite tired," she sighed, but her face looked triumphant and proud. Ron held out his hand for her and they walked through the crowded bustling halls of the Ministry. After getting to the entrance, they decided to cool their heels by walking a bit before Apparating. Ron knew she wasn't quite ready to go home, that her nerves were still shaken up, so they walked along in silence. He could see her carrying herself in a fearful way, with her arms crossed across her chest, so he let his hand rest on her back every now and then just to reassure her as best he could. Soon they were apparating back to her parent's home.

When they arrived in her room, Ron said his goodnights.

"I think now that you're getting better, your parents wont appreciate me sleeping here," he said with a smirk. The truth was that he knew he couldn't face sleeping next to her if he couldn't touch her, but he just didn't want to hurt her with the reasoning, so he used the excuse that her parents wouldn't like it." Ill be back before you wake up."

Suddenly, Hermione leapt up and grabbed him, holding him close to her as though he might disappear.

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_Tell me do you lose your way each day  
Are there people you don't recognize, do they lie?  
Tell me does it make you feel too real?  
Tell me the truth, and I'll tell you the truth  
If you gamble everything for love  
You gonna be alright, alright_

"What if I can't? What if I can never…" Hermione asked, holding tightly to Ron.

"I'll always love you, just remember that," he whispered. They stayed there for a long time, as he stroked her hair and she clung to his tee shirt. A hug felt safe to her, it felt friendly and okay. But just imagining other things scared her to death. She couldn't stand the thought that she might see Runcorn's face again, especially not while she was with Ron. Hermione knew she needed to drive all thoughts of the terrible Death Eater from her mind, but she feared that might never happen.

"I've got an idea," he said gently, guiding her over to the bed. Hermione's stomach lurched at even that simple act. "Now keep your eyes open." Ron reached a trembling hand toward Hermione's face, but she closed her eyes and began to pull away.

"No love, look at me," he whispered, waiting for her dark eyes to find him. The moment they did, he gently cupped her face between both of his hands. She shrank away slightly, but somehow managed to keep her face in his hands.

"Ron, he touched me here. He touched me everywhere," Hermione whispered, her mind whirling at the recollection of Runcorn's lips upon her face, his drooping face trying to take over the image of Ron's eyes. She felt terror grip her as she realized she might never again feel free to enjoy Ron's presence – Ron's touch.

"Shh. It's just me," Ron whispered, closing most of the distance between their lips. "He's not here. He can't get you. He won't hurt you."

Ron's hands caressed her face while the painful memories that filled her mind began to be replaced. Instead, she was able to envision Ron as a young boy, his face screwed up as if he might be thinking hard. She now saw Ron's wide grin , identical to the one he wore when she showed up before the Bill and Fleur's wedding. Simultaneously, the image of Runcorn's yellowing eyes seemed to morph into Ron's blue – the eyes that were in reality staring into her own.

He started blowing gently on her face as his hands moved down her neck and settled on her shoulders, where she still felt the soreness of her injuries. They felt as if the chains were still holding her arms above her head when Ron's hands stopped there. She felt exposed and helpless all over again. Everything felt as if she was right back in that horrible place, and she simply couldn't breathe.

"Look at me, Hermione," Ron whispered, causing the images of the dark, gray world to soften again into blue and orange. Her breathing slowed. He put his lips close to her bare arms and once again blew a gentle breeze against her skin. While he did this, his hands wrapped very lightly around her wrists.

"He will never hurt you again. He won't. He's gone for good," Ron croaked, holding her eyes with his loving gaze.

This time only the pain came back to her memory. Ron brought his lips to her wrists and blew lightly there. Hermione felt his warm breath tickle her smooth skin, making her comfortable enough to allow the feeling to progress through her veins. The painful tension in her neck began fading as Ron's breath moved throughout her body, but she began to tense again when she felt Ron's fingers move the strap of her camisole down her shoulders, exposing the swell of her breasts.

"Hermione," he whispered, almost begging her to open her eyes to meet his, which still shown brightly in the semi-darkness.

Slowly, Hermione opened her eyes in response to his gentle command, but noticed immediately that his brow was creased and his jaw tightly clenched. She looked down, saw the crescent shaped-scar Runcorn had given her, and panicked as she looked from the mark to Ron's eyes. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest as she imagined Ron's thoughts. What if he couldn't do it anymore? What if he couldn't handle her in that condition? Although she felt damaged, Hermione wanted to scream for him to stay with her – to accept her as she was. She wanted to tell him how much she needed him, but fear kept her silent.

His long fingers found her chin and pulled her face up to meet his eyes again. Never breaking the gaze, his lips touched her scar and brought her breathing to a stop. After a moment's hesitation, she relaxed, no longer seeing her assailant when Ron touched her like this. Instead, all she saw were white eyelashes and the cerulean hue of Ron Weasley's eyes. She pressed her hands against his back as he blew again.

"This is mine," he whispered, his thumb dancing across her scar. "He isn't here anymore."

The notion that a few brief touches and breaths could take away something so painful was absurd. It did not mix well with the logical part of Hermione's mind. But it was working; it worked because Hermione's heart wanted it to. She was done waiting for the storm to clear because it would always rain some days. She would no longer allow darkness to rule her, because the light in Ron's eyes held so much hope, Hermione was done relying on only her head. Her heart wanted desperately to take control.

At this acceptance, Ron's warm breaths seemed to move through her like a ribbon, and she laid back on her bed as his hands gently pressed upon her. She flinched when Ron rolled up her top, but he whispered, "You can trust me. I'll never hurt you." When he finished rolling her shirt, her abdomen was completely exposed.

Hermione remembered the first time her awful captor had touched her, running a long nail into the flesh from her ribs to her waist. She shook when she heard Ron choke down a strangled cry that stuck in his throat. But soon she felt warm lips pressing against her skin, leaving a trail that was soon covered by his breath. She was surprised to feel warmth between her thighs when his hands ran up and down her skin. The pain had almost completely disappeared, and Ron's smell, his eyes, and his whisper were replacing her former captor in every crevice of her mind.

But the worst was still to come. She saw that her legs had not healed all the way, and the slices from Runcorn's whipping wand still branded her limbs. She could feel Ron begin to shake as he moved down her legs, and she braced herself to relive the horrible memory of her clothes being torn away.

Instead, Ron lifted her legs up and laid them across his lap, wrapping his arms around her knees and draping his torso over her. She could feel his chest quaking against her legs, and she sat up to put a hand on his back. He looked at her with tear-filled eyes.

"Oh Hermione," Ron moaned, his eyes squeezed shut. "I love you so much. Tell me you love me too. Tell me you forgive me for leaving, for letting you get hurt like that," he begged, his voice leaden and his eyes watering. "I don't deserve you, not at all," he pleaded, kissing the wounds on her legs lightly.

"I love you Ron. There's nothing to forgive. You're too good to need absolution," she whispered, her lips trembling at the weight on his shoulders.

He turned his tear filled eyes away from her to summon some dittany. He applied another coat to her broken skin, and then leaned close and blew until the salve had dried, bringing welcome relief.

Hermione sat up so she was fully on his lap, allowing him to wrap his arms around her waist and pull her close to his chest.

"I love you, Hermione. I promise I will never hurt you. I will never make you do something you don't want to do, and I swear I will try my hardest to make sure no one ever hurts you like this again…even if that means never letting go of you," he said, pressing his face into her hair.

Hermione's heart soared as she clung to Ron like she would fall if she didn't have him for physical support. He held her tightly, running his hand up and down her back until their breathing slowed. She fell into an easy sleep that night, for the first time since her capture.


	10. You're Gonna Be Alright

_Love me with an open heart,_

_Tell me everything._

It was a hot day, even for June. Angelina Johnson had tried every cooling charm she could think of, but was still soaked with sweat. It didn't help that she had to keep lifting heavy boxes, because there wasn't enough room in the Wheeze's storeroom to safely levitate the boxes. Still they needed to get things back in order, and Angelina was nothing if not organized. She was relieved when she had finally moved the last box and she was able to take a moment to wipe the sweat from her face with the end of her tee shirt.

"Got some more boxes for ya, Angie!" George yelled, and Angelina's entire body seemed to wilt. When he came to the back room empty-handed and winked at her, she pretended she didn't understand how the loose box of skiving snackboxes hit George upside the head. He ran at her in mock anger, wagging his finger dramatically.

"Ahh that's better," he said, putting an equally sweaty arm around her. "I can finally see the desk again!" he exclaimed, and before Angelina could even say 'you're welcome', he had crashed his lips against hers.

As was usually the case when she was with George, Angelina instantly flooded with desire. Not even worried about her sweaty body anymore, she pressed against him and let her tongue dance in circles around his. He moaned, wrapping his hand around her neck to deepen their kiss. His other hand moved up her shirt.

"So this is my payment for an afternoon of work? I want a raise!" she smirked, her hand moving to his groin.

"Mmm. How about a bonus, you cheeky witch?" He said, pulling her tee shirt over her head. His hands cupped her breasts, causing both to moan eagerly.

She ran her hands up and down his back before pulling his shirt off. She kissed his chest, enjoying his smooth skin and the pattern of freckles that were uniquely George. She quickly undid his trousers, lowering herself to her knees. She moved his shorts down slowly, just to tease him a little.

When she finally wrapped her fingers around his cock, his hips bucked and he stifled a cry deep in his throat. She saw him point his wand at the door, hiding them safely from the world and whatever might be happening outside. She darted out her tongue to taste the salty sweet liquid weeping from his head. He gripped her shoulder hard.

"Oh Angie!" he moaned when she let his erection slide into her mouth. "So good," he whimpered between groans.

She reached a hand around to grip his perfect, round arse while she ran a stiff tongue along the underside of his shaft.

"Oh fuck!" he yelled when she began to suck in harder and she dug her nails into his flesh.

Angelina loved any excuse to touch him, to taste him. They had only had a few days of 'official' dating, but the pair had been doing things like _this _since Seventh Year. She had loved him back then, but was too afraid she might lose him by confessing her feelings. Now, however, she could enjoy him in all the ways she wanted.

"Merlin, Angie, you're…oh…" he mumbled. Suddenly, his tense hands pulled her up and he kissed her exuberantly. "This is supposed to be your bonus," he whispered, pushing her back. To her surprise, she landed on the newly visible desk.

George pulled off her shorts and knickers in one smooth motion and lay over her to kiss her neck, his erection begging for entrance. He leaned back and threw one of her long legs over his shoulder, the accompanying rush of wind bringing a whiff of her intoxicating scent, accentuating her hot arousal.

"I love you," he whispered before his length filled her and she cried out his name.

He fucked her hard, withdrawing almost completely from her before entering once again in a mind-blowing rapid series of movements. His hands were over hers, which were gripping the sides of the desk.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he grunted, continuing to slam into her.

Angelina could feel her body begin to tense, to feel the wave of pleasure starting to loom inside of her. "Oh George!" she called out, unable to say anything else.

"Come for me, Angelina," he whispered into her ear. It was all she needed for her whole body to seize up and cause her to yell.

Angelina's release brought George's building climax to a simultaneous peak. "Fuck," he moaned, riding out their orgasms together.

When at last their breathing slowed, he gently moved off her. He gathered her clothes silently but stared lovingly at her as she slid on her knickers. He pulled on his shorts and then wrapped his arms around her waist, settling her close to his chest.

"So what do I get if I do inventory?" she asked slightly.

"Angie, listen," George said, suddenly serious.

Anxiety began to pound in her chest, but Angelina forced herself to remain composed.

"I know we've just officially started dating, but you love me, right?" he asked, his light brown eyes pleading with her.

"Of course, George, more than anything," she answered earnestly.

In response, George released the breath he was holding.

"And I live for you," he croaked.

Angelina knew that was more than a euphemism on some of his worst days, so she pulled him closer to her.

George ran his hand along the side of her face, becoming increasingly nervous with each passing moment.

"George, what?" Angelina asked, but she couldn't finish the sentence because George had dropped to one knee.

She gasped and a very confused purple pygmy puff suddenly descended from the ceiling on a string. Tied to a bow on his its back was a beautiful ring with a diamond flanked by two magenta stones. She stood shocked as the pygmy puff continued to dangle in front of her.

George undid the ribbon and held the ring in his hands.

"Will you marry me, and let me love you forever?" he asked, taking her hand.

"Yes," she said clearly, though tears were forming in her eyes.

He stood, slipped the ring on her finger, and pulled her into the best hug of her life.

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Ron wasn't just worried. He was scared. He had to meet Hermione at Fred and…well … George's shop in 30 minutes. He couldn't silence the fear echoing in his mind at the thought of Hermione being alone in such a crowded area.

She had insisted on doing this on her own, and he knew it was best for her to get back on her feet. However that didn't stop him from imagining her injured, alone, and scared. He clenched his fists and began his third round of pacing through the alley and checking his watch.

His worry was only magnified by the fact that Runcorn's trial was beginning in an hour. Soon, Hermione's ordeal would be put on display, and though it was a closed trial, even he wasn't sure he could stand the thought of reliving such a horrible experience. He also knew that if he felt this strongly about the situation, it had to be much, much harder on her.

Ron had to remind himself that she had insisted on coming alone, saying that the benefits of seeing justice served would far outweigh the pain of reliving the horrible things that had happened.

Ron wasn't sure he could keep himself from murdering the monster if he had to see Runcorn's face again.

At exactly three o'clock, he hurried into the shop. Relief washed over him when he saw her bushy brown hair near the back room of the shop. However, when he finally saw her face, there were tears. He reached for her, but she raised her hands and pointed toward the slightly opened door.

George was on one knee in front of Angelina, a pygmy puff dangling between them. The oddest thing was that she was in jean shorts and a bra, he in his boxers. She must have said yes, because the next moment, they were embracing.

Ron was so ecstatically proud of George. He had been worried that his brother might be beyond repair, but seeing him hold her, he knew there was still hope. Overwhelmed with joy, Ron couldn't help but begin to clap. Hermione started setting off cheering charms around the shop.

"What's all the cheering for?" Ginny asked, making her way through the shop, Harry in tow.

"I'm getting fucking married!" George said, bouncing up and down.

Ginny let out a high pitched squeal and made a beeline for Angelina. "Welcome to the family," she exclaimed, embracing Angelina tightly.

Moments later, Harry joined them, hugging Angelina's shirtless form with a little less enthusiasm.

Meanwhile, Hermione had given George a warm embrace.

"Oi! You keep your naked hands off her!" Ron said, grinning. This earned him a bare-skinned hug as well.

After a celebratory glass of firewhiskey, they finally got George to put his clothes back on. As the time to testify grew near, however, the mood darkened a bit.

"Are you guys ready to go?" Harry asked timidly.

George and Angelina nodded, gathering their things.

Ron looked at Hermione. She had a pensive expression on her face, the kind he often studied secretively while she was reading. He put a hand on her back to encourage her, to comfort her.

"I'm actually quite famished. I haven't been eating well lately, but I'd rather eat than sit in that courtroom for hours," she said, without a hint of sadness or apprehension in her voice.

"Anything you want, love," Ron answered, taking her hand. They walked out of the shop while the others stared after them in shock. Ron looked back, smiled, and signaled that everyone else should go ahead.

They walked along Diagon Alley in a comfortable silence. The day was sunny and warm, and Hermione's face seemed to be bathed in a yellow light. Ron wasn't about to question her decision; he was too relieved himself to not have to go and look at the pathetic disgusting face of the man who hurt Hermione. She looked serene, too at ease with herself, and he didn't want to risk whatever put her in that mood. After days of worry, he loved just seeing her smile.

"What are you in the mood for? Steak? Sausage? Fish and chips?" Ron asked, his own mouth watering.

"Actually, I could really go for a turkey sandwich," she said thoughtfully.

"Then we have to go to The Burrow! I'm a pro at turkey sandwiches. Just don't change your mind and ask for corned beef when we get there," he said with mild disgust.

Hermione chuckled lightly.

They Disapparated immediately, arriving moments later just outside the Burrow and walked in quietly. The house was still and silent.

"Where is everyone?" she asked, her voice nearly matching the silence of the kitchen.

"The trial, I suppose," Ron answered, fishing out all of the ingredients he needed: Mum's homemade bread, cheddar, mayo, mustard, lettuce and some roast turkey. In no time at all, he had prepared two flawless sandwiches while she set out two cups of ice-cold pumpkin juice.

Ron almost forgot his own meal as he watched Hermione eat her sandwich with gusto. There was something comforting about seeing her eat. It was like everything was going to be okay now because Hermione Granger loved her turkey sandwich. It was then, of course, when he remembered he was starving and quickly caught up with her.

When they were both finished, Ron let out a big, elaborate stretch and patted his belly. Hermione yawned, but her eyes didn't look tired at all. In fact, she seemed a little nervous. Ron quickly thought of ways to ease her mood.

"Wanna catch a nap while the house is quiet?" he asked, putting an arm around her. Her eyes got wide, a blush crept to her cheeks, and then she nodded. When they got to his bedroom door, she paused, shaking slightly.

"Hermione! You don't have to sleep in here. I can set you up in Ginny's room if you would like," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

She shook her head fervently, so he guided her into his room and readied his bed for a nice, summer nap. She sat down next to him, reaching up for his face.

Her hand was so soft and warm that Ron couldn't help but close his eyes and lean into her touch. Suddenly, she was kissing him. He kissed her back joyfully, never wanting the moment to end. She moved into his lap, one leg on either side of his hips, and pulled away while she attempted to find her words. As he waited, Ron ran a hand through her hair.

"I just…well…I don't want to just live with this. I don't want to just overcome something and have it always linger," she said with determination.

"I understand, love," Ron said, despite not fully understanding.

"You know, seeing George and Angelina so happy made me want the same thing so bad," she said, closing her eyes as though she was imagining it.

Ron panicked a little, but if it would keep her even this happy, he'd buy her a ring and marry her today. He knew he was going to ask her eventually anyway. He continued to play with her hair as she resumed.

"I want to move on, not just get over it," Hermione continued. "I don't want to be stuck in this place. George is moving on from his pain, and I should be just as strong.

"You are, love. It's only been a few days and you're doing so great!" Ron encouraged.

"I know. I feel better. I just want life to move forward. We've lost too much and gave too much of ourselves to the war effort. So, starting right now, I am not wasting even of it," she said, kissing him again.

Ron pulled back to meet her eyes. He needed to make sure that she understood he wasn't going anywhere.

))))))))))))))((((((((((((((((((((((())))))))))))))))))))((((((((((((((((()))))))))

_If you gamble everything for love  
If you gamble everything for love  
If you gamble everything for love  
You gonna be alright, alright_

"I know it's going to be a while before you are completely recovered, but as long as I can hold you, I'll be fine," he said softly.

Hermione understood what he meant. Any person with even a cursory knowledge of psychology would know that the recovery period for this type of thing would take a very long time. But time was something Hermione didn't want to waste. After so many years of fighting for her world, for her friends and family, she had come to realize that every single moment holds value. Waiting very long time just wasn't an option.

She knew there would be some residual pain and a few imprints left from that fearful time, but Ron's gentle touch and his calming eyes had banished them all into shadow.

Hermione placed her hands on Ron's face as he cautiously kissed her palms. She mustered up the fountains of courage that were housed in her chest and kissed him with every ounce of love and passion she possessed.

Ron sat stiffly for a moment, obviously worried that she had gone around the twist again, but relaxed when her thumbs ran along his stubbled face.

"Hermione," he whispered, taking her face in his hands. He kissed her carefully, sliding his lips softly over hers and letting one of his hands firmly plant in her hair. He nudged his nose along her jaw and inhaled deeply. When his lips found their way to her neck, she responded by moaning very slightly.

His answering groan took her by surprise as he laid her back against the bed and she felt his tongue slide across her lips. The feeling of his tongue dancing with hers lit a fire underneath her and every semblance of Runcorn seemed to fade as Ron's face flooded all of her conscious thoughts.

"Hey," his voice cracked and she turned to look in his wide eyes. "Are you alright?" he asked anxiously, not wanting or able to elaborate on that question.

"Yes. I'm okay. It's okay. I just want you," Hermione said, shocked by her own forwardness. Ron's entire face flushed and his eyes filled with doubt, but he laid his body back over hers and pressed his face against her bare shoulders, kissing them lightly.

"I promise I'll never hurt you, and I'll do whatever I can to keep anyone else from hurting you too," he croaked, gazing at her reverently. His grip on her tightened, as though he was afraid she would disappear again.

Hermione pulled his mouth to hers and kissed him until she lost all sense of time. She wrapped her legs around his waist and couldn't help but gasp when she felt his erection pressed against her center. Ron pulled away from her lips, apology evident on his face.

Hermione thrust her hips up into his, and he closed his eyes and bit his lip. She loved the way he looked: his lips bright red and every inch of his body fighting for control over his reactions. When he thrust his hips back down again, they both moaned.

He kissed her hard this time, his mouth engulfing hers hungrily. Her hands found their way inside his shirt and pressed against the burning skin of his sides.

"Mmmm," he groaned, his hips against hers, moving back and forth in rhythm. His hand ran lightly down her neck, his fingertips grazing her pulse point. He slipped the strap of her top off her shoulder and kissed her exposed skin. His lips, his touch, and the look in his eyes were all so soft that all the darkness in the world seemed to disappear. When his lips found the swell of her breasts, her hips lifted off of the bed and pressed hard into his erection.

"Gods, Hermione," Ron whispered, his upper arms shaking as his quivering fingers moved away the fabric of her bra to expose her nipples. His hand covered her breast gently, and this time his hips quickened their pace against her clothed center. He reached behind and fumbled for only a few seconds before unhooking her bra and removing it completely.

Hermione's back arched when his lips closed over her nipple and his tongue flitted across her flesh. She fisted her hand in his hair as she had imagined doing throughout many nights alone in her bunk. She let the silken strands overtake her fingers. When Ron went to lift her shirt off of her body, she more than eagerly complied.

Hermione tugged at Ron's shirt and pulled it over his head, not bothering with buttons. When the warmth of his skin pressed against her own coolness, the feeling nearly overwhelmed her.

She felt Ron's body writhing against her as she echoed his movements, her lips grazing the soft flesh of his neck as his breath became rushed. Soon, she could feel his heart pounding against her. She was concerned until she looked up at his face and saw his hair cascading into his eyes, his lips parting, and his cheeks burning bright red.

"I love you," she whispered.

"Hermione," he groaned, his voice choking in his throat as his body stiffened.

"I love you too," he said, kissing every spot on her face. He sat up, looking embarrassed, and he wouldn't meet her eyes as he cast a cleansing charm on his trousers.

His eyes finally met hers and he smiled shyly, that smirk giving Hermione more hope than the most powerful _Patronus_. His face fell as his eyes swept slowly down her body. Hermione covered herself out of instinct.

"No, Hermione," he said firmly, moving the blanket back off of her. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. These scars are nothing. They just show me how strong you are…how incredible you are."

Luckily he had begun to kiss the long scar across her stomach and couldn't see the tears welling up in her eyes. She didn't feel strong. She needed Ron to banish Runcorn from her mind, and sometimes it felt like she needed Ron's presence just to breathe. Would he still love her if he knew how weak she was, how needy she felt?

The fearful reasoning left her head when she felt Ron's fingertips toying with the waistline of her shorts. Ron's fingers tucked under the thin fabric as he went to pull them off her hips. Anticipating that the pause was due to uncertainty, she lifted her hips off the bed allowing him to slip her shorts over her feet, leaving her only in knickers.

She felt his face pressed against her thigh, breathing in deeply. His thumbs traced her scars while his lips traveled back up her body. His hand rested on her hips and he kissed her repeatedly. His fingers slipped over her mound, touching her through her panties, as their breathing seemed to cease simultaneously.

"Is this okay, love? Did he hurt you…here…too?" he asked while his voice suppressed crying out to her in fear.

Hermione's heart seemed to leap from her chest as his fingers pressed more firmly against her. "No, Ron, no. He never…he tried…but he…" Hermione could barely stand the need for his touch to deepen.

Ron's fingers moved her knickers to the side, slipped between her lips, and brushed against her clit. She cried out as he moaned into her shoulder. He rubbed that spot for a few delicious moments as she writhed beneath him.

When he slid one finger inside her, her body began to tense, an automatic response of fear and apprehension. She longed for him to move, to touch her more deeply, but she seemed unable to move, unable to speak, unable to breath.

"Hermione," he whispered, kissing around her ear and down her jaw. "I won't hurt you and I won't make you do anything you don't want to do." He repeated the mantra.

Her body relaxed, allowing Ron to slide another finger inside. The tightness was both wonderful and painful, so Hermione opened her legs wider on instinct. His fingers shifted against her walls sending a jolt throughout her bones. He twisted his hand, and as he did so, his wrist brushed against the sensitive nub between her lips and she cried out, her hips grinding into his hand.

Ron lifted his head from her neck and smiled a genuine, toothy grin. That smirk sent Hermione's head spinning and made her heart burst. He leaned down and kissed her softly.

Then, she felt his thumb move lightly across her clit and her fingers dug into his shoulders as she cried out yet again. He continued until she felt her body tense and a wave of pleasure roll over her. She whispered his name when the quivering subsided and he muttered "so beautiful" in the vicinity of her ear.

Ron rolled onto his side and pulled her close, his head resting on top of hers. She let her heartbeat slow as she lay in the safety of his arms and her hands ran lazily along the bare skin of his back. She could feel his desire for her building again and her curiosity peaked. She was shocked and pleased that she wasn't the only one whose body was so drawn to the other. She began to play with the waist of his jeans, and when her hand ran over his rounded bum, his hips bucked again.

She bravely undid the button on his trousers and slowly released the zipper, her own hands trembling with nerves.

"Hermione, you don't have to just because," Ron started, though he couldn't suppress a moan when her hand reached down his shorts and she grazed his hipbone.

Hermione was touched but a little frustrated by his statement. She knew that he was trying to keep her relaxed, trying to erase any fears or lingering anxiety, but she just wanted to feel him. She wanted to love him like he loved her.

"I need to touch you, Ron." She said, pressing her hands on his shoulders to encourage him to lie on his back.

Hermione's hand wrapped around Ron and her breath froze. He was hard and soft, warm and smooth, but most importantly he was Ron. She relished the chance to make him feel good. She began to move her hand up and down while Ron's lips clenched tightly shut, like he was holding back, not fully letting go. She moved her thumb around the soft tip of his cock.

"Fuck!" he grunted, his hands gripping either side of the mattress. Hermione continued on with similar motions and watched him, devouring him as if he was an ancient text. She could see his ribs come down from his lightly muscled chest to rest on his abdomen. His stomach clenched and unclenched with each stroke of her hand, and the fluid motion of his tight, lean body mesmerized her. His long arms spanned her entire bed, and Hermione longed for his large hands to be all over her again. She leaned down to kiss around his navel and his hand ran tensely over her neck and shoulders.

He sat up to look at her, leaning up on his arms, shaking as she continued to grip his cock. His eyes were burning as they met hers, and the stare alone caused heat to flare up between her legs. He kissed her as he turned her body more fully toward him. When her breasts were exposed, his mouth lavished each with attention as he moaned and thrust into her hands.

Slowly, he guided her back down the bed and she was forced to remove her hand…slightly frustrated again.

"You feel so good," he breathed, kissing across her collarbone as he gazed at her. "I didn't want to…well…" He said, and kissed her scar again, stopping to slowly pull down her panties.

"I want to taste you," Ron whispered, touching her center with his entire hand.

Hermione was shocked. Of course, she desperately wanted him to kiss her _**there**_, but she was a little apprehensive about him being in such uncharted territory. However, when he blew lightly against her wet folds, she relented and opened her legs for him.

His fingers spread her lips and his tongue flicked lightly over her clitoris, causing Hermione to buck and yell out. She could only take a few moments of his mouth on her before she craved something more. Luckily for her, he seemed to want the same thing, because he began kissing back up her body, his eyes blazing for her like Bluebell flames. He sat up on the bed, looking at her as if he was trying to find the answer to a question he was afraid to ask. She leaned over and kissed him, pushing his trousers and pants off over his bum.

He stood quickly and removed the remnants of clothing, as Hermione blushed a little, but inwardly marveled at his long body. He was dusted with freckles and her lips itched to kiss every single one. He wasn't necessarily muscular like the men in Witch Weekly, but the definition in his shoulders was still alluring to her. His legs were long and thin, moving upward to his hips, a line of muscle darting down each side of his groin. Red hair donned the area around his large, pink member. Hermione thought he was absolutely perfect.

At last, his flushing face met hers on the bed in a searing kiss. She clung tightly to him as he laid her back against the bed, his hand holding onto the back of her head.

"Are you sure this is okay, love." he whispered, pressing his forehead to hers while his breathing remained labored and his face began to glow with sweat.

All Hermione could do was nod and let a lump travel down her throat. Ron put one hand on her cheek while the other one held him up, and kissed her softly, his body pressing against hers in amazing heat and comfort. Hermione's legs came up and her knees rested on either side of his hips causing her center to press against his throbbing erection.

He let out a small, sobbing laugh and kissed her again, his cock pressing against her entrance. She closed her eyes. As she felt Ron begin to enter her, her hands gripped his shoulders in anticipation. As he deepened, she heard an amazingly feral sound come from his lips, his voice moaning near her ear. She was looking forward to hearing him make that sound over and over again.

However, as he slowly thrust all the way into her Hermione began to feel a painful burning sensation between her legs. She tensed up and closed her eyes again, trying to keep her tears away. This was a good pain, it mean change, love, and devotion. Hermione clung to Ron more tightly as it occurred to her how close she had come to having to feel this pain with someone who didn't love her -- someone who only wanted to torture her. Ron's heavy breathing against her neck and the hard planes of his back on her hands brought tears to her eyes – tears of joy that mingled with the ones born of pain.

Ron thrust again and the pain spiked. She cried out, though she was trying very hard to suppress her voice. He leaned back and looked at her, his hips slowing their motion as his lips brushed against her wet cheeks.

"It's okay. We're okay. Just tell me if it hurts you too much," he said, picking up his pace again.

The sharp pain soon subsided as Ron's pace increased and his shoulders tightened. Hermione bucked up against him.

"Oh Merlin!" he shouted, dropping down on his elbows and gripping the pillows on either side of her head. His moans were a mixture of groans and cries, the intensity in his deep voice rumbling in her chest. They slowed to a steadier rhythm and he opened his eyes. She felt his gaze upon her face even though her own eyes were still closed. One of his hands moved slowly to her breasts as he began massaging them, even though his fingertips were still shaking.

"I've wanted you for so long," he whispered, dipping his head down to tease one of her nipples with his tongue. Hermione ground her hips back against him, trying to feel every inch of him, every sinew of his body. She felt worshipped, cherished, and safe.

"Oh Ron!" she cried, reaching up to capture his lips. At the sound of his name, he moaned louder, his pace becoming erratic.

"So good," he groaned, the pitch of his voice picking up with each moan.

"Ron," she whispered over and over again. She could feel his body clench and she grabbed his face so his eyes met hers.

She felt his cock twitch inside her, and gasped in shock and pleasure. He buried his head against her neck as he spilled inside her. When his heartbeat and breathing slowed, he looked up and Hermione reached to brush some fringe out of his face. He smiled shyly and kissed her.

When he rolled off of her and lay on his side to face her, she rolled over and pressed her chest to his and sighed when his hands wrapped around her bare waist. She could already feel herself slipping off to sleep when she whispered, "I love you…forever."

"Always…always…"


End file.
